


A Gathering of Sacrifices

by Shadsie



Series: National Anthem 'Verse [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Behind the Scenes oneshots, Character Death, Character-centered oneshots, Fighting for Survival, Gen, Side Stories, Sister Series to National Anthem, Sister Story Series, Super Smash Brothers and Hunger Games Hybrid, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadsie/pseuds/Shadsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of side-stories set in the universe of my previous fan fiction, "National Anthem."  Each story will center upon a particular character's experience of the events in that world or will give a glimpse of what went on behind the scenes.</p><p>The original "National Anthem" was a hybrid of the Super Smash Brothers videogame series and The Hunger Games - though mostly the latter only in premise.   </p><p>It is highly recommended that any reader read "National Anthem" before looking into this series, as each story is heavily connected to the main fic and carries spoilers for it.  </p><p>Side-story character focus so far:  </p><p>1 <i>Laurels are for Victory</i> - Pit.<br/>2. <i>Her Warriors</i> - Peach.<br/>3.  <i>Under Darkness</i> - The Resistance.<br/>4. <i>Pikachu and the Pokemon of NIMH</i> - Pikachu.<br/>5. <i>Recovery</i> - "Toki" and "Tiny" Adult (Melee') Link and Toon Link.<br/>6. <i>Timeless</i> -  "Toki," Pit and Palutena.<br/>7. <i> Beast's Eyes</i> - Twilight Princess Link/Wolf Link.</p><p>Marked as Complete / On hiatus pending new story ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laurels are for Victory

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Super Smash Bros. and its many characters belong to various people at Nintendo. Some concepts and expy-styled characters were inspired by the works of Suzanne Collins, obviously. I have my own “real” work I’m seeking profit for, so I’m not profiting from this. 
> 
> **Notes:** This is slated to be a series of side-stories / supplements to my previous fan fiction, National Anthem. **Any given story in this collection will contain heavy spoilers for the main fanfiction – so read it first if you haven’t.**
> 
> Pit’s rather lengthy tale is the first. It goes on the premise that the alternate universe of Ganondorf’s “Brawl of Honor” takes place between actual Brawl and Melee’ / replaces Brawl and so, he is from his world as it exists prior to the events of Uprising, references to it aside.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the universe of "National Anthem," - where Ganondorf, the self-proclaimed President of Ninten has taken the Super Smash Bros. tournament and made it a deadly game, not even angels are safe. This first story is Pit's journey through his ill-fated Brawl of Honor. Despite everything, he tries to stay upbeat - if for nothing more than to help a friend.

**A GATHERING OF SACRIFICES**

**A supplemental side-bar of stories to _National Anthem_ by Shadsie**

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**THE FIRST TALE:**

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**Laurels are for Victory**

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The boy did not like the looks that he was being given in the Training Hall.Most regards were looks of hunger, the glares of predators.The looks of pity bothered him more.He decided to raise his bow and show these people just what they were dealing with.They obviously were not well-versed in angelology and other mythic studies; otherwise, they would tremble in fear.Agents of the divine were nothing to mess around with, though Pit knew very well that looking cute could work to his advantage, as well.

 

Errant gods had always underestimated him because he was small.His big blue eyes evoked a sense of innocence and his white wings were more “fluffy” than magnificent.That was when the Captain of the Guard of the Goddess of Light would shoot such gods in the face with glorious magical weapons.Pit was a seasoned destroyer of monsters. Of course, this was a different setting.Monsters were generally soulless – or worse, made of souls corrupted beyond recognition, killed at mercy.The wickeder gods of his world had a general (and obnoxious, if you asked him) habit of being able to bring themselves back to life after a time. The people he was slated to fight at the command of an evil man had souls of their own and wouldn’t be coming back to life.

 

“Oooh!” some of the occupants of the Hall exclaimed as he let loose an arrow of purest white light from the bow Lady Palutena had given him.The cloaked woman with the pale skin winched and recoiled, as if the ambient light from the arrow and the flash it made as it destroyed a target had actually hurt her.She was on the other side of the room. Pit gave a polite little bow as former Brawl Champions and their current charges alike applauded.

 

There were more gasps as the boy flexed his wings and called up the blessing that was housed in them.He flapped upward until he alighted upon a platform.Ropes hung from the ceiling between suspended platforms.This was all Palutena could do for him.The five-minutes of sustained flight using her dangerous power in his home-universe was an annoying enough limit to deal with.Pit currently carried a small amount of that power in his wings that he could activate at will, but it lasted much less than his limit – enough to “jump” with, but not enough to remain airborne.His wings would not burn under such a “dim” light, but he would drop like a rock.Pit was careful not to let anyone know that he was an angel who could not fly.It was better to let him think that he just did not want to go zipping around recklessly.

 

He dismantled Palutena’s bow and idly twirled the curved swords that made it up for a while.He jumped around and down on the lower platforms just to show off.He was trying to look intimidating.After all, if all of the others chosen to fight were afraid of him, maybe they’d leave him alone long enough for him to form a plan to get out of this situation. 

 

“Oooh, he’s so cute!” cooed a blonde woman in a pink dress.Pit cringed.She wasn’t a competitor – just the liaison who organized meetings and preparation.Miss Kumquat was it?No… Peach, Miss Peach… some kind of a fruit.Peach had gone out of her way to try to make him feel welcome when he’d arrived – that is, was dragged – to this place earlier in the week.

 

Lady Palutena could not help him.In fact, Pit was doing this for her – as with anything important that he did.

 

The sorcerer, Ganondorf, had sent his own armies into his world.He had managed to subjugate even the gods.Of course, he had claimed to be a god himself - the God of Power.Once his will had been unleashed upon Angel Land, any deities and their servants who’d fought him found themselves destroyed or chained within their own temples. It was rumored that Hades had struck a deal with the invader, but Pit hadn’t seen them together. Palutena had been the last holdout.Most of the Centurions had fallen – without her being able to revive them.Viridi, the Goddess of Nature, who had also put up the biggest fight, had been sealed within a sacred oak.When Ganondorf had announced a desire for a warrior to fight in his deadly Brawl tournament, he had originally chosen Palutena; with the stipulation that she would wear the manacles of darkness he’d given her to de-power her while in the Arena.Other fighters did need a shot at destroying her to keep the game exciting, after all.

 

Pit had volunteered in her stead, despite the notable fact that he was, at the time of the call, dying.He’d fought the invasion until his body had been filled with bulbin-arrows and the dark-magic that had been wielded by Ganondorf’s allies among Twilight creatures. His wings were broken. He’d retreated to stand between Palutena and the invaders, slowly losing his hold on life.The angel did not hesitate, even as he’d struggled to stand.

 

His tribute was accepted.Palutena was released from her manacles crafted of Ancient Hyrulean dark-magic just long enough to heal him up and to bestow her blessing upon his wings.

 

“I’ll return to Skyworld victorious!” he bragged, trying to stop his goddess’ tears. Lady Palutena kissed him on the forehead and gave him the special bow.

 

“Fight hard and come home to me,” she said.“I believe in you.”It was the last he’d heard from her besides “Piiiit!” as a pair of Moblin guards carried him down through the clouds and through a dimensional portal.Pit remembered her reaching out to him.He’d reached out to her.

 

Miss Peach had _tried_ to make him feel better when she’d showed him SmashCity, but there was no “better.”Lady Palutena was not with him.His golden laurel-crown, which had magical properties and through which she communicated with him was silent.He tried to raise her on it, calling to the heavens.There was nothing.

 

If he fell, Pit did not know if Palutena could bring him back.She probably could not – not in this world where the supreme god seemed to be Ganondorf.Pit did not even know for certain if his soul would be able to gravitate back to her from here.If he died, he might find himself in the Underworld soul-to-face with some of his vengeful enemies, unarmed.He might be trapped in this plane.He might even fade.The winged boy tried not to think about it.The little angel knew that the only option was to return victorious.Well, that or try to find something wrong with the arena which he could exploit.One did not spend as much time playing videogames as Pit did without looking for glitches and non-obvious solutions to puzzles.

 

He sized up the competition.Each combatant brought a pang to his heart.Bowser he could think of as any dragon – he wasn’t even as big as the Hewdraw, but from what he’d overheard from Mario’s conversations, he was apparently quite a villain.Pit decided he’d have little problem putting him down, if that was so. It was likely to come down to self-defense.The blue-haired swordsman with the enormous sword vaguely reminded him of a human friend back home… he didn’t want to think about that.The gorilla was intimidating and the monkey was cute… a thought crossed his mind of “putting animals down humanely.”

 

 _What am I thinking?_ echoed in his mind. 

 

Samus, for whatever reason, made him think of a “big sister he’d never had.”He watched her move as she trained and almost got a spasm of heroic admiration. She was soooo cool.He’d decided that he should avoid her for as long as possible.The ninja was cool, too… and scary.Sheik would appear behind him on a platform without warning and then disappear in a puff of smoke from something she threw.The swordsman in green clothing frightened him.He had the eyes of a predator. Pit did not like that man at all, and not just because he’d joked about “tasty chicken wings” at him.No, it was the comment about “tearing out his pretty little throat.”Pit suspected that he was merely trying to be intimidating, just like he was trying and failing at.There was something about that rival’s eyes that was off – they were beast-eyes, but they struck Pit as somewhat sad when he’d gotten a good, full look at his face.The young man looked like a soldier behind enemy lines prepared to do everything that he had to but nothing that he wanted to in order to survive.

 

Another swordsman with wings was on the roster, but Pit found him far too intimidating to talk to, and so contented himself with watching the dark knight’s impressive sword-styles.He spoke briefly with the space-pilots, both the Champion and the current slated fighter.Of course, the subject the three spoke of at length was flight and a shared love of the air and open space. Both the bird-man and the fox-man wondered aloud when the Champion’s buddy “Toki” was going to show up so they could knock off and all go to one of the city’s bars together.

 

“I’m old enough!” Pit protested when they told him to stay at the hall and hotel.“I’m older than I look!And I drink red wine all the time back home!”

 

They’d just laughed.Again, Pit remembered that he had a certain kind of appearance.The “drink of the gods” didn’t have a tendency to get him drunk, anyway.

 

He didn’t have much luck talking to the pokemon that were being sent into this slaughter.He had no understanding of their language, not even in the manner of a trainer.Pit got the strangest feeling that Bulbasaur was only here due to a mistake by the “author” – that an Ivysaur was supposed to be in his place, but that the “author” had accepted the mistake as minor and had just gone with it.Charizard gave Pit a thrill of fear – for he imagined being caught in the air by that creature and having his wings burned by its breath.

 

He was on the ground floor when he heard happy calls of “Toki!”Pit turned around to see a man who looked like the beast-eyed swordsman and a short boy in similar clothing enter the Training Hall.Both “Toki” and the boy had clothing that was brighter than the other guy’s.The young one looked around warily before running right up to him and the target range.

 

The boy eyed the room before shyly addressing Pit.“You…um… are you one of the fighters?Mr. Kokirin tried to tell me about the people I’d be going into the Stage with…” 

 

“Yeah,” Pit answered, a hand on his hip.“The name’s Pit.” 

 

“Link,” the boy answered, “but Mr. Kokirin calls me Tiny, ‘cause there’s another Link here.You kind of remind me of a friend I have… the feathers.”

 

“Really?” Pit asked.He sighed.This kid was young.That’s when he remembered… Miss Peach had shown him video of the call for fighters.Link…. This was Link Outsetter.He had volunteered to keep his younger sister out of the running.Pit smiled sadly and put a hand on Link’s shoulder.“I… saw what you did… on video.It was very brave.Do you want to spar? My bow turns into a pair of swords.”

 

Link shook his head.“I heard from Miss Peach that you make arrows out of light.I want to see that.”

 

Pit obliged, taking down a few targets.He practiced directing his arrows.The boy was impressed.

 

Pit pointed to Link’s sword and shield.“You should practice.There are a lot of strong fighters here.I’ve been watching them all day.I know what this game is, but you deserve to have a chance.” 

 

“Let me take care of my Champion first,” Link said.“I think this might be harder on him than on me.”

 

Pit took the platforms some more before heading back across the room for some water from the cooler.His eyes caught the infamous “Toki’s” for a moment.They were defiant eyes set in a defeated face attached to a body that smelled like the floor of a dive-bar. The winged boy considered little Link lucky to have someone to mentor him.He had no one, himself.He touched his laurel-crown, tracing his fingers across the top of one side of it.The crown remained silent and he felt utterly alone.

 

 

 

 

“Pit?” called a voice from behind the door of his room just as he was starting to relax.Tense muscles had been his constant companion since he’d gotten here, as well as an un-quiet mind.“Mr. Icarus?” 

 

It was Peach.She kept calling him that, “Mr. Icarus,” though she’d slipped up once and had called him “Mr. Ikari.”It wasn’t his actual surname. Pit had none.He was just “Pit.”Apparently, his rank was being treated here like a name.One would think that being an “Icarus Class” angel would portend bad luck, but it was a species-name that Palutena had come up with because she valued ambition.It also carried an appropriate edge of danger, as “flying too close to her light” was inherently hazardous.The gaining of wisdom never came without risk and seldom came without pain – and it was a thing that many considered it worth dying for.

 

To him, Lady Palutena was definitely worth dying for.What he was having trouble with was figuring out the quickest, cleanest, kindest way to kill innocent mortals for the sake of returning to her.He especially did not want to be the one to dispatch that little Link boy, nor did he wish to see him die.He hoped that it would happen far away from him and that the young hero would be able to get his licks in before going down. 

 

“Mr. Icarus?”

 

Pit opened the door, already in sleepwear.The hotel room had graciously provided him a hot tub that mimicked the kind of hot spring that existed in his world.He’d been taking advantage of it, just as he’d been taking advantage of room service and catering.The lingering flavor of roast lamb and vanilla ice cream was on his breath and sleep was on his mind.He yawned loudly.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Icarus,” Peach apologized.“The stylists need to borrow you.They had an idea for the public presentation tomorrow.” 

 

“What kiiiiaaaa-iind…of… idea?” the angel yawned out.“And I said before, you can call me Pit.”

 

“Oh, why would I be uncouth like that, dear?” she said, taking him by the hand. “Who do you take me for? Our dear Toki?Oh, don’t worry about your clothing, darling.We’re going to have to strip you down, anyway, if we don’t want to stain anything you’re wearing…” 

 

“Strip?”Pit squeaked.“No… really, I should just get back to bed…” 

 

“Oh, you are too shy,” Peach insisted, leading him on.“Our people are professionals.” 

 

“I don’t want anyone staring at the sacred buns!Or the holy spear!”

 

“President Ganondorf wants all of the fighters to impress.The crowds enjoy it. Come along now. We’ll be quick.”

 

And that is how Pit found himself standing in presentation the next morning before the roaring crowds of SmashCity in a shimmering golden toga with yellow-tinted and gold-edged wings.His feathers had been carefully combed and dipped and he was told not to wash the color out until after the day’s events.He’d expressed concern about how the gold might weigh him down, gum up his feathers and make him shiny and easily seen in the arena.He was told that everything would easily rinse away.

 

He lifted his bow and put on a smile for the people in the old stage – unused for combat anymore – that had been “Pokemon Stadium.”He called the light-blessing into his wings and did a short circle above the other victims.He was met in the air by Meta Knight clad in pearly armor and Charizard, who’d been given golden armor dressed in rubies.Link d’ Ordon of Old Hyrule, the elder, beast-eyed version of the “Link” model, was clad in a red velvet and bejeweled armor version of his usual wear.Link Outsetter had much humbler wear, surprisingly – an outfit in drab colors, green and brown, with his hair dyed darker.It was meant, Pit had heard, to evoke a woodsy, “rugged” look appropriate to wild-living heroes.Most of the fighters slated to try to survive it out this year were clad in shining things, so the “rustic” look was highly unusual.Bowser’s platinum shell was especially dazzling.

 

Pit had another day of rest and a chance to think things through before the next day, when the sacrificial warriors were to enter the stage. Pit hadn’t had much experience with force-fields, but he knew that was what was going to be surrounding the countryside everyone was going to be randomly dropped into.He stayed up a little too late, trying to get the stupid temporary gold paint out of his wings.

 

 

 

 

The angel was dropped into the thick of an Old Hyrulean forest.The transport platform (“angelic platforms” they were called – he thought about the irony) let him down by a still pond.It looked like it was a sacred spring of some sort, or would have been if the area hadn’t been altered by President Ganondorf’s sorcery.Pit gazed at his reflection in the water.Tricks of the light filtering in through the leaves on the trees made his reflection look dark to him.His wings and his hair appeared black in the mirror-image.His counterpart’s eyes were red and angry.He almost felt like the image was talking to him, though it was inside his head _.“Yeah, how are we gonna get outta this one? We need to be tough and show no mercy. I don’t want to die here!Do you hear me, Pit-Stain?”_

 

Pit shook his head and splashed the reflection away into ripples.He’d been given a small canteen – a gift from Miss Peach, though he figured everyone had probably been given one.He dipped it into the water.He briefly wondered about any sicknesses that might be lurking in the pool, but he sensed a residual holiness left behind from whatever had once lived there.Besides, he was an angel and there were very few diseases they could catch.It was the wings his people had to worry about.Damage to them damaged their life-force.Sheared feathers posed no problem, but anything that happened to the flesh and the bone… 

 

The winged boy walked a little way in the woods before taking to the air and landing in a tree to assess his surroundings.He could see the subtle glimmer in the force-field dome above him.He tensed as he saw the gray shape of a wolf down in a valley.He relaxed when he saw other wolves.For a moment, he thought it was Link d’ Ordon, entirely too close to his area.Pit had seen him transform into a wolf in the Training Hall.The angel remained wary.He’d been briefed that there would be many dangers in the arena; including animals and monsters native to the world he was in.Normal wolves were something he thought easier to deal with than d’Ordon.He thought he caught a glimpse of an airborne camera.He thought about shooting it out of the sky, but worried that such and act would give away his location.

 

He wasn’t ready to kill anyone yet.

 

Pit spent the rest of the day looking for food.He’d found a few mushrooms, but he did not touch the things, for fear that they might be deadly.He did see a few bright red “death angels,” which he knew would do to his liver what the eagle did to Prometheus’.The ones that had beady eyes looked like the ones he’d seen Mr. Mario eating at the last communal dinner before game-day, but Pit didn’t trust them.Palutena wasn’t going to be dropping him little gifts here.He missed those gifts.Eventually, he huddled up to sleep between the middle branches of a tree – not high enough to be easily spotted, nor on the ground.He merely dozed, his bow upon his knees and his shivering white wings wrapped around his body for warmth.

 

Sometime later, the winged boy wandered, deciding to venture out of the little area where he’d been dropped.He kept wary. A few death-announcements had already been made. He looked for both potential food and enemies.What he found was a young swordsman clad in Kelly green.

 

As Link Outsetter raised his sword and shield, Pit raised his bow.He formed an arrow of light upon it.This was a nightmare.He liked Link, in as much as he’d gotten to know him in the Training Hall.A few tense breaths later, and Link was lowering his weapons. 

 

“I don’t want to do this.”

 

Pit lowered his bow.“I don’t want to do this, either,” he said.He stood and stared at the boy.He’d wanted to go it alone, to survive it out without attachments.It seemed that the Fates were not with his plan.

 

“The two of us aren’t going to come out of this together, you know.”Pit wanted to remind Link exactly what they’d been forced into.He gauged whether or not Link wanted to risk his heart on an alliance.

 

Link, for his part was surprisingly chipper.He spoke of how “Little guys should stick together.”

 

Pit decided that the two of them ought to see how far they could go together.If he was going to go home to Lady Palutena, he was going to have to watch the kid die.He determined himself not to be the one to make it happen.If they “lucked out” to be the last ones left… well, he’d find some way out of this.He could think about it later.

 

“Do you have anywhere to stay for the night?” Pit asked.

 

Link shook his head.“No.I had a mountain-side cave, but I… kinda… found out that it’s been taken over.”

 

“Trees are good.Perch up in a tree and you’re off the cold ground and it’s not as easy for someone to come up on you and cut your throat as you sleep.”

 

Link shuddered.“Y-yeah… but I’m not a bird. Getting up into a tree must be easy for you.”

 

“You can climb, can’t you?” 

 

“Hyup.”

 

“I’m sorry if I’m sounding too morbid,” Pit apologized.“I may not look like it to you, but I’m a commissioned military officer.Strategy is important.”

 

“So I’ve heard.”

 

“Ah! This tree looks like a good one.” Pit announced as he found a nice place to sleep. “Those branches right up there.”He pointed.“Need a boost up?”

 

Link struck his sword into the tree-bark and used it as an anchor to start clambering up.Pit gaped.The kid was quick.He launched himself up and started making a reasonably comfortable nest by weaving the smaller branches together.As he helped Link up into the nest, his stomach growled loudly. 

 

“Was that yours or mine?” Link laughed.

 

“Hungry?” 

 

“I haven’t had more than a few berries since I got here!”

 

“I was flying around a little earlier today,” Pit said. “I saw a stream.It might have fish. Do you like sushi?” 

 

Link made a face. “Can’t you cook? I like grilled fish. I come from a fishing village.” 

 

“I’ve been hesitant to make a fire…” Pit confessed.

 

“You don’t want anyone to see you, right?My mentor told me all about fires and smoke and how you need to make false fires if you can to throw people off your trail.”

 

“Eh… I have a kind of different thing with fire,” Pit said, settling into the nest and twitching his wings uncomfortably.“I’ve had my feathers catch fire every once in a while.Long story.I’m just really careful around flame.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Link said. “We aren’t anywhere near the sun…” 

 

“Nor anywhere near my goddess…” Pit whispered.

 

 

 

 

The next day found Pit and his ally taking a high trail.Pit played lookout, flying up into a tall, dead tree.He spied and glided back down to find Link drawing a symbol in the dirt with a bit of fallen branch.

 

“What is that?” the winged boy asked.

 

“The Triforce,” Link explained.“It is the greatest sacred object in my world – well, in all of the versions of Hyrule.The top triangle represents the essence of power and the other triangles represent courage and wisdom.They are supposed to be golden and it’s said that a person with a balanced heart can make wishes on the whole thing.Some people in my world don’t really know what it is, though… they look for the ‘Triumph Forks.’It was left to us by our creator-goddesses.I’m hoping I can gain their favor, maybe…. People in my village put triangles on their doors to protect their homes… Maybe they’ll see this and hear my wish for us both to get out of this.”

 

“I don’t know if Palutena can hear me from this world.” 

 

“Palu?”

 

“My Goddess of Light…”Pit briefly explained.He spoke of being under her command.He sat down next to the young swordsman and they make some dark jokes about mortality and the clothing worn by heroes.They stretch out and relax for a bit, before Pit is forced to explain how he cannot take sustained flight.Link, for his part, complains of his own lack of swimming skills inappropriate to the child of an island.The conversation turns to food quickly.

 

“Mmmm… Floor-pie.”

 

Yep, Pit decided, the both of them were definitely loopy from having had so little to eat lately.He was glad that he’d taken advantage of the services in the SmashCity hotel they’d all been put up in.However, the angel had a fairly high metabolism.At this point, he could eat a bakery full of pies as well as an entire malt shop’s worth of floor-ice cream.Why were they both thinking of pie?It was so random… At least he wasn’t thinking about a gummi Venus DiMilo or something called “Tommaco,” except that he just did… also random… 

 

“I like your hat…” Pit said, trying to take his thoughts off food that did not exist for him.He sat cross-legged and pointed at Link’s windsock hat, tracing its curve.“It looks good with your pointy ears… like it’s perfectly matched.”

 

“I like your crown.What is it? Laurels?”

 

“Yeah,” Pit said, taking it off and resting it in his hands.He held it in one hand and traced the individual leaves with the fingers of the other.“Laurels stand for victory.Wearing this reminds me of how strong I’ve been in all my battles.It’s very special.Lady Palutena gave it to me.In my world, she speaks to me through it… but I haven’t heard her in this world…”

 

“May I see it?” the boy asked.

 

“Just be careful with it, okay?” 

 

“You can look at my hat.”Link took his windsock-off and handed it to Pit, while Pit handed over his laurel-crown.Link rested the crown upon his head, where it sat rather well.Pit put Link’s hat on.It rested awkwardly over his hair.They exchanged smiles and laughed at each other.

 

“It’s going down over my eyes!” Pit laughed.He took the hat off and took a long look at the crowned Link.“Wow. That actually looks really good on you.”

 

“It’s not really of my world,” Link said, removing the laurels and handing them back to Pit, taking his hat back.“All the legendary heroes of my world wore goofy hats like this.They catch any dramatic wind.”

 

Pit affixed his crown back upon its rightful head.“My headgear might not catch the wind, but that’s what my wings are for. My victory-crown marks me as a servant of the Goddess Palutena.”

 

“It must be neat to be close to your gods.”

 

“She brings light to the land and keeps wisdom and justice,” Pit said, beaming up with pride.

 

“You really care about her…” 

 

“Of course!We… we have to find a way out of this.I have to get home to her.She needs me… And I need her.”

 

“I want to go home to my sister and my grandma.They need me.They’re probably watching us right now, worried sick about me.” 

 

“Yeah… probably…” Pit sighed, sitting up and hugging his legs.“We both have our families, though mine’s not like a mortal’s…I’m glad we’re allies, Link.I feel… less alone.”

 

“My sister Aryll would really love you,” Link said.“She’d want to pet your wings.She adores seagulls because she likes their wings and the way they bob around.Not that you bob around when you walk or anything… you know what I mean…” 

 

“We should get up and scout around… see if we can find something, anything to eat! I’m starving!” 

 

All little Link had to do was to cut some bushes to find a present the stage-staff had granted them, a blessing from on high, of sorts.Pie – several plates of glorious pie! Needless to say, the swordsman and the angel stuffed themselves – after which they had a burping contest, because they were a pair of adolescent boys.

 

 

 

They found a cave they wanted to camp in, warm and dry.Near to this place was a formation of rocks that wasn’t has high as the trees, but made a nice vantage point.However, as soon as they’d found a perfect camp to defend, Pit and Link had their first confrontation.

 

It did not go well for them. 

 

Pit spied something from his standing position atop the rocks.He saw something moving in the bushes at the edge of the trees bordering the clearing.It looked dark and furry.He raised his bow.However, he did not have time to fully draw back and release a light-arrow before a heavy shape burst forth and upward.He caught a good look at the beast’s face and its bared teeth. 

 

It was coming for his “pretty little throat.”

 

Link d’ Ordon, in wolf form.Pit flinched and side-stepped, but it was too late to break his bow apart into swords to defend himself with.Link Outsetter shouted. Pit barely registered it.Everything happened in a split-instant, but time seemed to slow for Palutena’s guard-captain.

 

Sudden pain and the grip of firm jaws caught the arch of the angel’s left wing.As Pit slipped and fell off the stone formation, the heat and hair of over one-hundred pounds of murderous animal came with him. Tender flesh tore as a bone wrenched from its joint under the pressure of that weight.To tell the truth, Pit actually heard a sharp popping sound before the pain hit.He felt only the wetness of blood, too, before his nerves screamed.Of course, when they did, it was pure, unfiltered agony.

 

The wolf jumped off of him and raced toward the younger Link.Pit pulled himself up and pawed around the ground, looking for his bow.Blood ran down his left hand, both sticky and slick.His fingers were shaking and he couldn’t get his hand around the weapon. The angel was having trouble figuring out what was going on.

 

Link… Link was in trouble… Pit’s knees buckled.He watched the wolf run off, leaving a trail of blood from its rump.Link stood and panted, holding a twitching wolf’s tail, victorious.

 

He drops it and runs to Pit.The winged boy feels a tug at his shoulder.He thinks he sees a bit of white feather out of his peripheral vision.The pain begins to hit him in force – throbbing and fire.He screams, scaring the small birds from the trees.In the back of his mind, Pit knows that this could give away his position, but he does not care.It is almost as if he’s not in control of his body.The screams rip themselves from his lungs with every slight movement.

 

“Pit, Pit, Pit….” Link whispers.Pit feels a hand on his right shoulder.“Stay still.”

 

“Is it bad?” Pit pants out.“I can’t tell what happened.”

 

Link’s face blanches.“Just stay still, okay?”

 

Pit hears the boy behind him invoke a goddess.He turns around just enough to get a look at Link speaking into a glowing stone, asking it for advice.He was using a talisman to try to communicate with his gods, Pit figured.The angel wondered if Link’s gods would hear him better from here than his goddess did.Pit starts screaming again, having wrenched the wound.He felt like a heavy object was just barely attached to him by a thread, similar to a loosened baby-tooth, but in the shoulder and far, far more painful.He twitched his shoulder and felt the grinding of bone.The boy choked and panted.He was still awake, feeling like he was starting to go blind.He wasn’t quite blacking out, just on the edge of it.

 

“Alright, Pit,” Link said, pale-faced and red-eyed.“I need you to bite down on this for moment and to think of something beautiful.I’m so, so sorry.”

 

Before saying anything more, Link thrust a thick, smooth stick into Pit’s mouth. 

 

“Mmmfph!” came the angel’s reply. 

 

Pit closed his eyes, but before he could spare a thought for Skyworld or Palutena’s green eyes, the swiftest, sharpest pain he’d ever felt ripped through his shoulder and caused his back to spasm.He bit into the wood in his mouth hard.He spit the stick out and felt around at the strange sensation tickling his left thigh.He found himself pulling the object into his lap.It was his wing – his pure, white wing flecked in blood.

 

Pit forgot the pain in his back for a moment, just staring at the wing.He stroked the feathers gently, remembering how Palutena sometimes softly stroked his wings when he was sad.The appendage was still warm.He could feel the warmth of his own life in the fleshy parts.He’d never fly again.Not like this.His fondest wish was to be able to fly on his own, but now he couldn’t fly even under a blessing.He did not cry.He was too shocked.He’d never seen the back of his wing before – not without a mirror.It was so white, so beautiful… 

 

Link snatched it out of his hands and tossed it into the bushes.“Come on,” he commanded.He didn’t have his hat on.Standing up slowly, with Link’s help, he noticed a warm, scraping feeling against the wound on his back.He carefully reached around and touched his side.The top part of his toga was pinned over him tighter than it was before.Link had torn up his hat and used it as bandaging, pinning it over the wound. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Pit whispered weakly as he followed Link.“It was…It was a nice hat.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Link said.“We need to get you somewhere safe, okay? Keep on walking.”

 

Link cut into a tree with his sword and peeled off a bit of the inner bark.“Chew on this. It’ll help with the pain.”

 

Pit obeyed.His mouth felt dry and he felt tired.His entire body ached.He twitched his right wing softly, just to make sure it was still there.This brought a crashing wave of pain as twitching one wing caused the muscles around the wound of the absent one to jerk.

 

“Hey, look…”Link brought the wounded angel’s attention to something that was laid over a branch outside the entrance to the cave they’d been interested in.It was a pair of blankets.“Looks like the SmashCity crowd’s taken some mercy on us again.”

 

Pit smiled weakly.He went to the back of the cave and laid down in the dirt.He’d stopped caring about the pain he was in, just too tired to do much of anything.To his surprise, he found Link draping a blanket over him and lifting his head to place the second one, still folded, beneath him.Too exhausted to protest, Pit felt Link’s fingers trace over his head and remove his crown, which the swordsman rested next to him. 

 

“Why..? Pit choked out.

 

“Don’t worry,” Link said. “It’s still your victory… I just thought you might be more comfortable without it.” 

 

“Thanks.” 

 

“No problem.” 

 

“Hey, don’t you need a blanket, too? If they gave us two of them…” 

 

“I’m alright. I sleep without anything over me in the lookout tower back home all the time.”

 

“Can’t fly n’more…” Pit said, drifting just over oblivion.

 

“You don’t need to,” Link answered.

 

 

 

 

Pit awoke to the smell of cooking meat.He wearily dragged himself up.The pain in his shoulder reminded him that he was alive.He grabbed his head.

 

“It…it was real!” he gasped suddenly.“It really happened…I lost my wing…” 

 

“I’m afraid so,” Link said sadly, offering him a chunk of something.“Eat this.It might help you get stronger.We’re both hungry.”

 

Pit gingerly took the meat chunk into his mouth, which he then chomped down ravenously.“More… do we have more?”

 

Link gave him a larger meat-strip.“It’s pretty good, isn’t it?”

 

“It tastes like chicken,” Pit declared. “Lady Palutena sometimes wondered what I might taste like… the centurions used to make fun of me, saying my wings were like chicken wings…” 

 

Right then, Pit got a horrified look on his face and let a gobbet of meat drop from his lips.“Liiiiiink…” he moaned, “You didn’t… You didn’t do anything weird with my wing, did you?”

 

Link got an equally horrified look.“Oh, you really DID lose a lot of blood!Why would you even think that?”

 

The little swordsman shuffled out of the way to reveal the campfire he had built and the bird carcass that was roasting over it.“I got lucky,” he said.“I went down to the creek by here to get us some water and found a cuccoo all alone and took it.” 

 

“Cuccoo?”

 

“Hyrulean chicken.It’s a good thing I was able to get it alone.If there had been a flock around, I might not have made it back.They’re delicious, but you have to be careful around them because they’re vicious.”He then added, “Pigs in my country are the same way…”

 

“More then!” Pit exclaimed. 

 

Link laughed, tearing off the drumsticks for them both to share.

 

 

That evening, the two of them sensed they were being watched.They sat by the fire, talking.Pit mourned his loss of flight and they got to talking about the goddesses of their world.Pit felt brighter talking about Palutena.If they somehow got out of this together, she would definitely heal him and set things right! 

 

They spoke of morbid things, of the way the Brawl was supposed to go as well.Pit tells Link of his wish to make a stand against Ganondorf. This brings a smile from the boy.They were still in this together.

 

Link starts a storytelling-session.He decides to tell Pit all about a race of bird-people that he knows.The broken angel listens and it makes him happy.It distracts him from his pain. He thinks their island is a sight-seeing spot he might like to visit.

 

Pit’s dreams that night are filled with darkness and the smell of ashes.He fights his way through the Underworld, destroying monsters and trying not to be swallowed up by the poisoned pools or the river.He is face-to-face with a Reaper when he wakes up.His blankets are sweaty and his back and shoulder have settled into a dull throb.He half-crawls out of his blanket to a quiet section of the cave and unloads what little bit of water is in his stomach onto the floor of the cavern.He immediately feels cold and goes back to wrap the blanket around his body.

 

He realizes that he has all the symptoms of a mortal sickness.He’d never had such a thing before, but he knew about it.Pit supposed it was the result of losing half of where his life-force was housed.An angel’s life was in his wings.He did not feel like he was running on half-life, just sick.

 

“Fever,” Link said, putting his small hand on Pit’s scalp after approaching.“Sit up. I need to check your wound.” 

 

Pit obeyed.“Do you… know what you’re doing…medically speaking?” he asked.

 

“Not really, but I know a little bit.My Grandma does healing. She takes care of sailors who’ve been hurt n’ stuff.”

 

“Do I get to sue you for malpractice later?”Pit joked.

 

“No, you do not,” Link answered with a smirk as he carefully undid the bandages he’d hastily prepared.“I don’t think I can remove these all the way right now without making you bleed too much.We could use one of the blankets as bandaging, but they’re probably just as dirty.Oh…no….”

 

“What?” Pit said, jerking up and wincing, “What is it?”

 

“I didn’t think something like this would set in so quickly.I’m seeing pus and stuff, signs of infection.”

 

“And that means?” Pit asked.

 

“You need actual medical attention.” 

 

“Well, I knew that.This is why I’m sick, right?” 

 

“Hyup. If it doesn’t subside, it’ll kill you.”

 

“Great…” 

 

“You should rest. You might be able to knock it out of you rest enough, at least Grandma says that the best thing to do when you’re sick is sleep.” 

 

“I’ve never been sick before… like this,” Pit confessed, fear edging his voice.“I’m an angel.This kind of thing doesn’t happen to us.”

 

“It happened.” 

 

“I’m gonna…. Get up and keep watch.” 

 

A scowl came over Link’s face.“Lay. Down. Pit.”

 

Over the days, Pit drifts in and out of dreams.He fights monsters and darkness to stay alive.He manages to avoid the Reapers.He hates the dream where he’s been turned into an eggplant and Lady Palutena is slicing him up for tempura most of all. The dream where he is a small, bobble-headed creature that cannot stop punctuating everything he says with “icus” is almost as bad.At least he was flying all the time in that dream and not a vegetable.

 

The one-winged boy drinks an unpleasant red liquid that Link prepares for him.When he asks about it, Link talks about how he actually talks to his mentor on his token – the stone he keeps in his pocket – and pretends to be praying in order to keep the illegal communication secret. Mr. Kokirin, apparently, had a little knowledge of field-medicine and was trying to help with a recipe for a wild draught he knew.Pit’s crown is his token, so this news makes him feel even lonelier for it being completely dead.

 

It helps ease his aches, but he is prompted to ask; “Can we trust Toki on this?For all we know, he might be trying to poison me so you can win.”

 

Link launched into a tirade, cursing Pit with names in many shades of Hylian, which the angel did not understand and decided he did not want to know. After he’d gotten the shock and anger out of his system, he panted and sighed.“I’m sorry, Pit.You’re sick and you probably aren’t thinking straight… We can trust him.He wouldn’t do that to you.He likes you.” 

 

“Really?I thought he’d see me as a rival.”

 

“He’s on our side.”Link then drops to a low whisper, in case the area’s hidden audio equipment might pick up what he was saying.“Toki has more reason to hate Ganondorf than anyone, so if we can defy his rules by getting out together, he’s all for it.”

 

“I’d think it would be easier to consider me a mercy-kill.”

 

“Have some more red-potion.You’re still in a lot of pain, aren’t you?” 

 

“Yes.But don’t worry or anything. I’m not done yet.No matter how many times I’ve been finished off, I don’t go down easy!” 

 

“You’ve…been finished off?”

 

“In my world, the gods can bring their servants back from death.Lady Palutena has always had my back.I don’t think she’s able to help me now… not here.It’s all the more reason to see it through and get back to her.I suppose if I… if I don’t make it… she can always raise up another guard-captain, but she won’t like it.She’ll cry.I can’t talk to her right now, but I bet she’s watching.I know she’s worried.”

 

What Pit didn’t want to tell Link was that he already felt himself going.He could smell the infection on him as it got worse.He smelled the distinct scent of Reaper somewhere nearby, just behind him whenever he lay down and got up and whenever he climbed the rock formation to keep watch over the camp.He never saw any soul-carriers; he only caught something of a spiritual whiff of their stench.He spent his time resting when Link went out and away to gather what little food they’d been eating and to get the syrup for making the medicine.

 

The last morning of the Brawl of Honor found Pit awakening after a terrible dream in which he was flying with both wings, but his wings were burning.He was diving through the air, trying to save the boy he’d seen in his reflection, that shadowy version of himself.He left the dream still falling, going down in flames.When he’s snorted to consciousness, he thought it was real for a moment, since the wound where his left wing used to be was burning with pain and he felt hot all over.He hauled himself up, smoothed out his dirty toga, ate a few nuts and wild bird eggs with Link, put his crown on, chewed a piece of bark and hauled himself up on the rocks.

 

Bowser came for them. Pit watched as Link lost his innocence in the most spectacular way possible.

 

The green-clothed boy had slain the dragon, staining his soul with blood to save someone who was already dying.Pit felt guilty, but there wasn’t time to ponder as the pack of Wolfos came out of the woods in pursuit of a far more familiar wolf.

 

Everything that happened after that was strange.Link d’Ordon spoke, loud and clear to the creatures that were trying to destroy him.The strangest thing that happened was the golden wolf that appeared out of nowhere.Pit would have taken it as a fever-apparition if Link hadn’t seen it, too, and if d’Ordon hadn’t started speaking to it.Clearly, this creature was something from his life, his story – his True Game.D’Ordon was making whines and cries of… remorse.

 

Pit was stunned at this whole spectacle.When the golden wolf and the monster-wolves attack Link d’Ordon and start tearing him apart, the angel decides that he cannot take the screams.He picks up his bow, wills the last of his energy into it, and lets fly, killing d’Ordon swiftly.In a cloak of shadow, the wolf transforms into the fresh corpse of a young man – one staring skyward with defeated, repentant eyes.

 

The beasts depart and that’s when Pit goes down.His shaking legs give way.He falls and Link catches him.There’s a brief sharp pain in the angel’s back as the little swordsman touches the sore spot of his bandaged wound.Pit feels his skin going numb and his muscles going slack.He cannot fight it away this time.The Reaper-smell is all around him.It feels similar to what he’s felt before, but not entirely the same.One thing he does know is that he’s definitely finished.

 

Link’s face is distressed.His eyes are sad.Pit doesn’t want him to be sad.He realizes that they are the last two fighters left.Link will be the winner.Pit is glad that Link will be the victor.He reminds Link of the family he’d told him about.

 

Lady Palutena will just get another captain, the angel figures.Given the lifespan of gods, she may even forget him after a time, after moving on.That’s when Pit starts to feel like he’s flying… separating from himself.He sees Palutena.He is standing above him in a spectral-form, offering out her arms to him.

 

“You can fly on you own now,” the image says.Pit doesn’t know whether she is real or not real, but doesn’t care.“It is time for you to soar.”

 

Pit can feel a smile tug at his lips as he does just that. Perhaps he’s trying extra hard to depart on that note, to try to help Link not grieve too much.To die smiling is both the least and best he can do.Link has made it to the end, at least.His friend deserves the victory.He feels the very last of his breath shudder from his body’s lungs as the vision of Lady Palutena embraces him.

 

It takes a few minutes after the announcement for Link to accept that Pit is gone.He lays the body down gently and tucks the remaining wing close-in.He smoothes out the toga, trying to make his friend look presentable, for he knows the cameras are watching.

 

 _Dammit, why did he have to smile?_ Link thinks. _It looks… wrong._ The one-winged boy is too still for smiling to be appropriate.He sighs and takes the golden laurel-crown off Pit’s head and holds it to his chest.

 

“Laurels are for victory,” he says with defeat.He jumps down off the rock and runs into the woods before the cleanup crew arrives.

 


	2. Her Warriors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peach's perspective on the world of Ganondorf's tyranny and his Brawls in the universe of "National Anthem." She is a deeper person than the others take her for, bearing pain that she doesn't let them know about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Notes:** I don’t know very much about Princess Peach’s characterization – as much as can be had – in her latter incarnations, latter games. I know her in Brawl and I know her in early _Super Mario Bros._ games. I think the game (that I’ve played) that gave her the most characterization was the _Super Mario RPG._ Even there, she seemed rather basic as I recall – innocent and ditzy (and stuck as the team medic / the heal-spell character). I do enjoy playing with her in _Smash Bros._ – She’s deceptively sweet before whanging other fighters with golf clubs and frying pans or giving a mean kick… From what I’ve looked up for her online, she seems pretty much as I’ve known her (confirming that I was pretty much right in making her my somewhat-expy of _The Hunger Games’_ Effie Trinket in National Anthem). Hopefully, the following story won’t offend too many Peach-fans.

**A Gathering of Sacrifices**

**THE SECOND TALE:**

**Her Warriors**

Her life was like a layer cake.  Most only saw the pretty pink frosting, never guessing at the subtle, crumbly substance beneath, or how deep the layers went.  That was just fine by Peach Toadstool, princess of the Mushroom Kingdom (though lately, she was the princess of her kingdom only as a figurehead).  People could think of her what they wished.  They always had, after all, and so always would.  Others had always thought of her as weak, never guessing at the hidden strength she possessed – which was typically their downfall if they ever joined her on a sports field.

 

Most people took her to be a flake, too – but she had run a kingdom.  Sure, it was a kingdom made up of mostly little mushroom-people who were a simple folk, but she had been in a position to make decisions that affected the many.  Peach could admit to coming across as ditzy, even brainless to most.  She was a little strange, that was all, and she found it to her benefit to allow people to believe whatever they wanted to.  Perhaps she was a little prone to kidnapping, but her secret was that she’d found her adventures with Bowser enjoyable, in part.  A little excitement could shake up a boring stretch of rule every now and again, and the thought of a brave hero doing his all to get her back sent a delightful shiver through her spine.  As her kingdom’s protector, Mario had needed to be kept on his toes – and in his jumping boots. 

 

Of course, when Ganondorf had used his sorceries, augmented in strength through unknown sources, to take over all the lands, things changed.  Maybe, Peach thought, she’d gone into his service too quickly, too eagerly.  Again, that was the “frosting” she wore.  The ex Hero of Time said that she’d lost her soul.  Toki said this often.  She’d lost it no more than he had his.  Toki had put his soul in a whiskey bottle. She’d laid hers upon an altar for the sake of saving her home country. 

 

What even her dear sweet Mario did not know was that the service Peach rendered to Ganondorf was the thing that kept the Mushroom Kingdom among the most prosperous lands among the worlds of Ninten.  It also kept certain individuals from being chosen to fight in the Brawls of Honor. 

 

The night of the latest victory found the former Princess Peach sitting at the desk in her suite in the hotel rented out for the fighters and veterans.  She carefully rifled through loose photographs with her gloved hands.  There were was a photograph in a frame resting upon the desk of her, Mario and Luigi in better times. 

 

Her presence in servitude was keeping Luigi out of the bloodbath, among a few others.  He’d always have his name written down for the fighter-selection process as a formality, but it was always crossed off and destroyed before the call was made.  As long as Peach served to keep the chosen fighters “in line” every year and did promotional services to make the Smash City rabble happy, her “cowardly” friend was guaranteed to be left out. 

 

Mario she could not save.  When President Ganondorf had selected him to fight, the decision was non-negotiable. Peach had tried using female charm upon the brawny warlock, only to be ignored.  “You’re not strong enough to last a night with me,” he’d huffed, “I’d break your little body in half.”  Arranging dates with women more to his liking had been one of the former princess’ duties.  She knew that the president liked to gaze upon her, but he needed a good secretary enough not to give into a desire to break her in half.  Rule was something he loved to do, taking annoying calls – not so much.  Dealing directly with his chosen fighters without strangling them before the games began at the first sign of defiance was an even greater problem for him.  Peach was naturally cheery and bubbly, and so was the perfect liaison. 

 

She could make fighters feel at home even as she was preparing them to be sent to their violent deaths. 

 

Mario did not know about her deal with the president to save Luigi.  He did not want to have much to do with her after she’d taken up work for Ganondorf.  Peach missed him.  He was a survivor, but had made himself dead to her in most respects.  In her eyes, he had more courage than Toki.  _The Hero of Time and the avatar of courage for Hyrule her butt!_  Still, Mario’s mind was nearly as scarred after his Brawl and the love he’d had for her that once inspired him to leap over spike-pits and face fire-breathing plants was gone, and had been for some time.   

 

Peach knew that she still had a soul, because souls felt pain.  She might have given herself to the empire, but she loved all of her warriors.  She cherished each and every person who’d had their visit to Smash City arranged by her – both the living and the dead. 

 

“Ooh, this one looks good!” she exclaimed in her somewhat squeaky way as she held a photograph of Link Outsetter up to the light.  She was going over photographs from this year’s Brawl to be used in the Smash City newspaper and upon the commemorative broadcast.  There was plenty of video footage of everyone both before and during the Brawl of Honor, but Peach had arranged – as she had ever year – a photo-shoot of everyone in the days when they arrived and one of them in their presentation-outfits. 

 

She compared a pair of photographs of today’s winner.  Poor little Link was in the infirmary getting some wounds patched up and being fed and washed.  Peach was present in the hall when he was brought in via remote platform and taken care of by the Smash City citizens who’d served as the medical crew.  The kid was crying.  He sniffled (rather adorably she’d thought), and was trying to put on a “tough face,” but he had easily visible streams of tears down his dirty cheeks. 

 

After that, her attention turned to issues with the last of the bodies that were brought in.  Normally, she only handled the living, but the crew needed her cosmetic advice.  Link d’ Ordon was a mess.  His killing-wound was nice and neat – just a little burn mark the kind of which was commonly left by energy-weapons, but most of the rest of him was in a shape that made Peach feel a little ill.  She did not know if the magic armor he’d worn at presentation would help.  She’d decided, after discussions with the crew, that they should not craft a false wing for the fallen angel.  She did, however, decide that he should be dressed in a green toga and given fresh, green laurels. 

 

 Bowser – she got a glimpse of him and refused to linger her gaze.  Too many memories of happy days go-karting with the old reptile caused her to run from the sterile prep-room, leaving streamers of tears behind her. 

 

“I like you better in your normal outfit,” Peach said to “Link.”  She placed the snapshot of Outsetter in his light green “Hero’s Clothes” and his natural, bright-blond hair aside in the place slated for the “to be used,” shots.  The poor unhappy victor… then again, they were rarely happy. 

 

“Poor kid…”  The former princess hummed a song as she worked _. “Hmm, hmm, hmm - hmm, hmm, hmm, hm…doot, doot, doo, doo-de-do-do…”_

 

“Midna was a little smug when she won…” Peach said to herself, thinking back.  Midna… was really more angry than anything.  The Twilight Princess had gone into her Brawl with no illusions and had aimed to win.  She spared no pity, but killed pretty quickly and cleanly with her magic.  It was as if she had made weighty sacrifices before.  She did not operate with an evil glee, just with a kind of stoic pragmatism. Most of her kills had been of the mercy variety, though her winning kills had been straight-up revenge in the memory of a friend. 

 

If anything, that is what Peach admired about the tall, dark woman.  She was honest – even if it meant being brutally so.  Peach also knew, having known her in the winner’s circle, that Midna did not think of herself as a good person.  She did what she could to “minimize damage,” but had “never been a saint.”  The secret kept between them – one of many between Peach and the Champions – was that Midna truly longed to murder Ganondorf, but knew that she would never get the opportunity.  Peach warned her against her language, but she was sure that Ganny knew that many people felt that way but were powerless to do squat.

 

Midna had befriended a boy named Red in her Brawl.  It was for him that she’d lost all mercy.  “He was such a sweet kid,” Peach recalled, mulling over her memories of meeting him.  He was a pokemon trainer and had taken just one of his pokemon into the arena – one that had been, by the rules of Ganondorf’s Brawl, chosen with him – his Squirtle.  The poor turtle had been killed and turned into soup by one of the alliances. Literally.  The creature had been eaten by his killer and his allies for the sake of survival.  Red had found Midna and they’d watched each other’s backs.  Peach didn’t know why Midna had developed such a powerful impulse to protect him.  Perhaps his optimism had balanced out her gloom or he’d reminded her of someone she’d known or maybe it was the stories they’d swapped about their experiences training creatures that secured their ill-fated friendship. The wolfrider and the beastmaster decided to see how long they could make it together.  Red was fatally injured by the same alliance that had taken his Squirtle.  He’d died in Midna’s arms. 

 

Peach winced at that memory. It was one of the broadcasts that had caused the most excitement in the city.  The tender scene was talked about for a long time.  Midna’s subsequent ballistics were talked about for even longer.    

 

She held another photograph up to the light.  It was one of the fancy ones – one of the fighters trimmed in gold that seemed a little overmuch for him.  “Pit,” she sighed.  “You died the same way as Red did…” 

 

The night cloaked the city outside her window.  Light pollution softly diffused from the streets below.  Smash City was always alive, but the day of a Brawl victory always saw the parties where a rousing fight was celebrated and money exchanged over bets on the new Champion.  The Brawl had been won this morning.  Pit was alive just this morning.  It did not seem like such a short time ago when she was viewing the live-feed of Link Outsetter holding onto Pit Icarus and keeping him steady as the latter seemed to be trying to tell the former that everything was okay because he felt like he was flying. 

 

Peach, for her part, wondered if her earthly end would find her not soaring - but with flames licking her heels. Facilitating the slaughter of an angel had to carry a stiff cosmic penalty.  Peach dropped the photograph, suddenly horror-stricken.  She’d called him “Mr. Ikari” once, by mistake.  She’d heard that name before.  One year, some of the Champions who’d arrived for the initial ceremonies early had passed some waiting-time by viewing an animated science-fiction series.  It starred a boy with the surname of Ikari and it was about… killing angels. 

 

Not that Pit had been like any that were in the program.  He’d struck Peach as very sweet and very polite.  He was distressed during his stay in the city, for obvious reasons (listening to him pray for and cry to his personal goddess without answer had been painful), but he’d found a few reasons to smile – genuine smiles (she could tell), not like the ones she worked hard to plaster upon her face for the sake of keeping things running smoothly. 

 

Peach picked the fallen photo off the floor and put it next to young Link’s.  She thought the winged boy had looked good in his presentation outfit.  Likewise, she placed Bowser, clad in his shiny platinum shell in the pile for use.  She knew that her Bowser would enjoy looking royal.  She did not linger over that one.  She knew she’d tear up and be unable to finish her work.  Bowser was… special.  Perhaps it was Stockholm syndrome on her part, or just the technicality that he was of her world…  At the same time, she didn’t bear little Outsetter any ill-will for what had happened.  He had reacted out of instinct for survival and to protect someone he’d cared about.  It was what people were supposed to do in the Brawls…

 

She wouldn’t have wanted to be baked like a cake by the heat of his breath, either. 

 

Donkey Kong… No, Peach preferred the image of him clad in his normal brown fur rather than the temporary bleach-white.  Good, the photo had him giving something of a smirk and his tie done up so as to make him look downright professional.  Peach supposed most businessmen were like monkeys.  Peach placed the picture of his little friend next to him.  They had been loyal to one another.  Cranky had reacted to his fighter’s deaths in the way he most liked to react:  He went to the nearest statue of Ganondorf and threw things at it.  Peach never approved of such uncouth behavior.  Toki… oh, Toki was the worst.  He’d TP’ed the statue on year, and of course, this year, he’d taught little Link Outsetter how to decorate it with something worse.  Okay, so it was the sheer bad manners that baked Peach’s pie, but mostly, it was her worry over what they were going to get done to themselves when the president ran out of patience for the futile displays of the powerless. 

 

“Samus… I think you should show your pretty face…”  She placed the photo bearing Samus Aran out of her armor on the pile of photographs for use.  Peach had barely gotten to know the woman (though she’d known her from the Melee’ tournament of days past), but she’d admired her more than anyone would know.  She was intimidating, but very strong.  Peach had a little experiencing in defeating enemies, but it was nothing like the legends she’d heard of Samus.  That lady was nobody’s damsel.  Entire species in far flung reaches of her galaxy feared her.  She was all heavy weapons… and a happy fun ball.  Peach remembered finding the barrel of a cannon thrust in her face that day they’d met before the first day of Melee’ and she’d called her “Shay-mus.”  Peach had been able to see a softer side of the bounty hunter, particularly in recent days.  She seemed to like small creatures.  Peach had caught her in the act of very tenderly petting Pikachu. 

 

Pikachu… Peach couldn’t understand a word he said.  Toki once told her “His language is easy to figure out, if you’re not an idiot.  However, you’re the biggest idiot I know.”  The yellow mouse seemed to be as intelligent as he was rumored to be, however, by behavior alone.  His Brawl had been won through cunning.  It had also been terrible to behold.  In Ganondorf’s Brawls of Honor, electrocution did not work the same way as it did in the world where the pokemon came from.  It was blunt and it was brutal.  Pikachu seemed to be without remorse over the painful deaths he’d inflicted.  He was honestly one of the more put-together of the Champions.  Peach assumed that it was because he was a kind of animal.  Beasts and pokemon lived by the law of survival.  In nature, there was no other virtue. 

 

“Oh, you poor handsome beast…”  Link ‘d Ordon.  Peach chose the photograph of him in his normal wear.  She felt a shudder go through her when she considered the picture with the magic armor.  She’d decided that he should be shipped back to his Ordon village wearing that in his coffin.  Link had avoided getting to know her.  Sheik, too.  They’d basically hid behind Midna their entire time in Smash City.  Midna told her that she would handle things with them, that they “weren’t used to someone so…bubbly.”  The only thing about  ‘d Ordon that Peach knew of for sure was that Midna had loved him.  She’d basically holed herself up in her suite all day.  Whenever Peach had walked past, she heard objects being hurled against the walls and the subtle sounds of twilight-magic, the low-level kind she was able to operate within the city.  Peach also thought she’d heard her yelling at Toki in her apartment. 

 

It must have been because the two Links looked so much alike and she needed to scream at someone “for dying on her”… that was Peach’s best guess.          

Peach sorted through the photos and mulled over memories.  She spared sighs for handsome swordsmen, shudders for fighters that ate their prey or killed in especially gruesome manners, pain for the sacrificed subjects of her own kingdom,  and love… as much as she could feel and give… for them all.  Each of them had been a person, an individual, and alive.

 

The dead had been sacrificial lambs.  The survivors were living sacrifices, slowly dying. 

 

Toki was right.  Peach had sold her soul.  It was being worn away year after year.  She was much more of a coward than anyone else, though.  Her warriors had fought because they had no other choice.  She had been given a choice and had taken the easy way out.  Peach didn’t think she could fight and live.  She had confined herself to Ganondorf’s gilded cage for the sake of her kingdom, to try to spare her friends by striking secret deals, but also because she feared a violent death or a slow death, the kind a spoiled royal like her would not be able to avoid. 

 

Zelda – the princess of Toki’s lost kingdom, had once told Peach that she had a “hidden kind of wisdom.”  Zelda perhaps was not as wise as she was reputed to be in the end, but she was certainly braver than Peach knew she could ever hope to be.  When Toki had mounted a resistance, she was right there.  Peach, on the other hand, had tucked herself under Ganondorf’s wing. She had not fought and had not killed, but she had hidden in safe places, choosing Power in hopes it would spare her from dying and from killing. 

 

She was alive.  Her old friend was not.    

 

Over the years, that’s all she’d been doing.  Peach spent her time grooming people for killing.  She was a sacrifice for stable kingdoms – her own, and Ninten as a whole.  Toe the line and keep one’s manners - it was all she knew.  If she wanted to keep her head, it was the best she could do. 

 

Peach smiled through her budding tears.  Maybe Toki would chill out for a while and be a little happier.  His charge had won.  Maybe he’d think about drinking a little less.  Maybe that budding desire for another foolish and futile revolution would leave his eyes. 

 

Maybe Ninten would continue on in another year of peace.  

 

“Maybe, I’ll go to the kitchens and ask for a big piece of cake.”


	3. Under Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the latest Brawl, a few members of the Ninten Resistance Movement meet to discuss strategy over pasta. Link 'd Ordon is given his hard orders.

**A Gathering of Sacrifices**

**THE THIRD TALE:**

**Under Darkness**

In the heart of Smash City there is a little restaurant.  It is a significant place that tries its best to appear insignificant.  _Geno’s Vino and Pizza_ is said to be one of the finest “Italian-American” eateries outside of the Mushroom Kingdom, at least for those that knew the terms “Italian” and “American.”  Geno makes sure to take good care of all of his customers, especially the ones that show up after hours. 

 

A knock on the door five minutes after midnight tells the owner that his _special_ customers have arrived.  He finishes wiping up the bar-area, straightens his cape, opens the door and gives a polite flourish in greeting. 

 

“Mario,” he says, “And the Lady Midna, of course… Pikachu, _mon aime’_ … And who are the newcomers?”   

 

“The Hunter, Samus Aran,” Pikachu answered, introducing the young woman that had walked in with them.”

 

“And my charge this year, Link,” Midna said. 

 

“Link, eh?  Quite the common name.” 

 

“Don’t remind me.” Midna said, inspecting her fingernails.  “I’ll have a chicken marsala… well, if we were here for food.” 

 

“Any wine this time?”

 

“That would be a-no,” Mario replied.  “We have things to discuss that require… shall we say… a-clear heads. Tea and coffee on the other hand… we could a-use.” 

 

“I’ll fix you all up something,” Geno said, carefully locking the door. He asked if there was any need to translate Pikachu’s speech for any of the unfamiliar visitors and was assured that they all could pick up on him just fine. The restaurant-owner kept the lights dimmed and made sure the shades on the windows were drawn.  He waved his hand, as if working a spell of some sort.  The restaurant-thing was just a cover.  Geno was versed in mysterious powers.  Some said that he even knew a few Hylian spells.  He, of course, was fogging any cameras and listening devices – just in case his ‘midnight-club’ had been found out in recent days.  Of course they’d be meeting again tonight.  The new Brawl of Honor had been announced.

 

The group sat down at a large round table.  Link muttered something about it reminding him of the big table the Twilight Resistance liked to meet around in Telma’s Bar back in his world and in his memories. 

 

“The irony…” he sighed. 

 

“Well, we’ve decided that we need you,” Pikachu said.  He stood in the middle of the table. 

 

“Well, Midna does want to keep my tail alive… for obvious reasons,” the Hylian replied. 

 

“It is… quite a hitch in the plans that Samus was chosen,” Pikachu said sadly, nodding to the blonde woman. 

 

“Or it might be the best thing that could happen,” she said.  “Look, we’ve gotten past the information block.  We know what the old boar holds.” 

 

“Yes, but we have yet to procure vehicles,” Pikachu pointed out.  “Lylat is limited in the support they can give us.  That battleship we have our eyes on… belongs to one not in our plans.  It still needs hacking into.  Bringing down the grid from within the Brawl is something we have tried before… with tragic results.” 

 

Link’s eyes suddenly got very sad.  “That was what Shad was trying to do, right?” 

 

“Yes,” Mario spoke up.  “You should be proud of your friend.  He was very brave.” 

 

“Yeah…” Link mumbled.  “He thought himself a timid man, but he had more courage than he realized.” 

 

Memories swept over the group - some who’d watched from their homeworlds, Pikachu and Mario having watched from Smash City – of the ill-fated scholar chosen from Old Hyrule in the year that the swordsman, Marth, had won the Brawl.  The “timid” man had actually instigated a plan early on in the game, although he was merely a chosen fighter and had not been privy to the budding Ninten Resistance movement.  Perhaps it was his involvement in a resistance movement of his own that had given him the idea… perhaps he was just that smart. 

 

Link’s dear friend had “spoken” to the audience in code.  Pikachu was the first in Smash City to catch onto it.  Link ‘d Ordon had no idea how a pokemon could figure out Sky Language. He, of course, had recognized it instantly as he watched the mandatory broadcast with the remaining Group from Telma’s Bar.  Shad had explored the edges of the vast desert that year’s Brawl had taken place in.  He’d found a stick and wrote in the sand – a combination of Ancient Oocca – the “Sky Language” and a kind of pictogram language that he’d made up that he’d apparently hoped a few in the audience would be able to figure out. 

 

Link had, because he’d known the man and his work – but he could do nothing.  Pikachu, however, was able to decipher it and alerted the other Champions, who’d tried to sneak messages in to their fighters via the gifts demanded by the citizens of Smash City.  Even Toki had gotten a wind of hope when he was able to transmit a message to the unlikely pair of the pirate and the train-mechanic he was coaching that year.  Shad was finding weaknesses around the stage.  He’d discovered weak points in not only the area force-field, but in the platform areas and in some parts of the landscape - and spent his time writing secret messages about these weak points to anyone who liked puzzles and had a quick enough eye to catch them.   

 

No one knew if Ganondorf had actually figured out what the young archeologist was writing or if, more likely, he’d caught on that _something_ was alerting the fighters to sabotage the stage and that something was likely the weirdo who was spending his time hiding out, scrawling in the dirt…  

 

What followed was a rockslide that trapped Shad in a small canyon.  He’d dug for water, but the water source vanished almost as soon as he’d accessed it.  His final days were spent scrawling not messages, but utter nonsense and incoherent images as he went mad from thirst and was stricken with the desert heat.    

 

“I’ve never said anything about it, but I could read his final message…” Link said after they talked of the events of that game.

 

“The last bit of scrawl actually looked like a language,” Pikachu acknowledged, “but I couldn’t read it.”

 

“You can read Sky Language but not basic Old Hylian?” Link shook his head. “I can’t believe you.” 

 

“What did it say?” Mario asked.    

 

“It’s kind of interesting how sometimes the dying who lose their minds can become lucid at the very end,” Link sighed.  Midna grabbed his hand and rubbed it gently. “It wasn’t anything having to do with the arena or the Brawl,” he assured.  “It was just a goodbye.  He wanted me to continue to be a great Hero and that he’d put in a good word with my ancestors for me.  He wanted everyone in the Group to take care of Ashei. He wanted Rusl to kiss his wife and hug his children and Auru to not let his age stop him from exploring.  He wanted to make sure Telma didn’t water down the good stuff… silly…sweet stuff… like that.  His father’s work had been published before he was taken for the Brawl. He had no regrets.” 

 

“So, taking things down from within is just too risky,” Samus grumbled. “I’m sure my weapons could take out the arena grid, even without a weakness…”

 

“Samus…” Pikachu warned, “You know your suit will be powered-down there.  There is no way that Ganondorf will let any of us have the power to take out his defenses alone.  However, I am sure that if we can find a good chink in the armor, a little bit of the ol’ Thundershock can open up a gap big enough and for enough time to permit the escape of one person.  You, Aran.  We need your savvy and connections.  Of course, we need to find a way to fake your death.”

 

“Or I could just win.” 

 

“You know you can’t do that,” Midna said, glaring.  “Link is going to win.”

 

“Well, I was wondering why I was here,” Link said. “I mean, you and I could be back at your suite ‘saying our goodbyes’ if you know what I mean.” 

 

“I do know what you mean,” Midna groused, although she was smirking.  She grabbed his face, advancing toward her lips, and gently pushed him away.  “Such a wolf!  No, we actually do have a plan to share with you.  Mr. Mario alerted me to it after the selection broadcast.” 

 

“You could say that we were lucky,” Pikachu pointed out. “Our intelligence,” – with this he nodded to Samus, “has picked up information that changes Ganondorf’s games forever.” 

 

Samus pulled a tablet from the coat she was wearing.  “Between ‘Chu and I… and some of our other contacts, we were able to lift this image from within Ganon’s Tower.” 

 

Link looked at the image on the screen. It was a bit fuzzy, but it was unmistakable.  His eyes darted back and forth between the tablet and the mark on his left hand.  He peeled up his glove to get a good look.  The Essence had been absent from him for some time.  “Am I looking at what I think I’m looking at?”

 

“The True Triforce,” Mario affirmed. 

 

“But… how?”

 

“A stabilization field made of the magic of many worlds,” Midna explained.  She pointed to various other fuzzy images upon the tablet. 

 

“So, all this time… our worlds sundered and under his thumb… They’ve been Triforce-wishes?” 

 

“In a word, yes,” Mario said. “Although I am not a-sure how your Triforce works, exactly. Midna’s told me some… Toki some…”

 

“Toki?” 

 

“The other Link,” Midna said. “The first Brawl-victor.” 

 

“The Hero of Time?” 

 

“We a-call him Toki,” Mario explained. “It means ‘Time.’ It’s a-his preferred name. Don’t call him a hero. He hates it.” 

 

“This is all a little strange to me.  I mean… in our story… the story Midna and I shared… the Hero of Time is a spirit… an ancestor. It’s very strange that he’s also still alive and is a Brawl Champion. I’ve known about him, of course, it’s just weird thinking about it.” 

 

“Time’s gone all asunder in Smash City,” Pikachu said with a tail-twitch.  “The living Hero of Time is a different person than any spirits you might have known in your world.  Maybe, someday, Toki will become that spirit.  For the time being, however, he is a broken spirit.” 

 

“Oh, I have to talk to him…”

 

“It’s better if you don’t, Link,” Midna cautioned. 

 

“You are here, Pikachu began, “Because you are the best candidate to touch the Triforce and to reverse Ganondorf’s tyranny with heroic wishes. You also stand the best chance of getting close to the thing.” 

 

“How so?” 

  

Geno brought armloads of plated food to the table – various pastas, a small, appetizer-sized pizza with thick crust, bread and flavored olive oil.  Midna snaked an arm around Link and playfully squeezed his waist.  “You and I,” she whispered into his ear in a sultry fashion. 

 

Link blushed.  “Yes, but we are here right now… a public display of affection might throw the lonely off their dinner…”

 

“You idiot,” Midna growled.  “I mean… you and I.  Ganondorf knows how we feel… perhaps it is even why he chose you when I was in a position to mentor you – to maximize our pain.  He knows that whenever I go home, I am stuck in the Twilight Realm - we cannot be together as we wish.  We know he has a way to correct that.”

 

“We’ve a-got it in our heads that if we ask him a-favors…” Mario began, “We can offer them as incentives for the fight, a real good show.  The two of you are a-star-crossed lovers.  Offer to be ruthless in exchange for an audience at his palace…” 

 

“You are the best candidate to get into the Tower and the best candidate to make a Triforce-wish to get rid of his tyranny and set everything right,” Pikachu finished. 

 

“You are a legendary Link,” Samus added.  “Getting to the Triforce and making wishes on it is your job.” 

 

“We could get the little one from New Hyrule in,” Link suggested.  “Or the Hero of Time.” 

 

“No we can’t,” Midna said adamantly.  “The little kid is brave, but young and small.  His chances in the Brawl are slim.  As for Toki… don’t get me started.  He’s nothing but a drunk and more than a little bit crazy.  He lost Courage long ago.  He’s worthless.  Even if he was sane, sober and reliable, Ganondorf’s always kept eyes on him.  You do remember that he got upstart and tried to do in the daylight what we’re doing in the dark.” 

 

“It’s a-gotta be you,” Mario said.  “You have to win.  You must-a win, then a-claim your prize with Lady Midna.  The rest of us will back you up, so you can claim the true prize.” 

 

“You do know the price of this,” Pikachu cautioned. 

 

“I’m going to have to kill innocent people.”  Link sighed.   

 

“And when you wish upon the Triforce, you will probably keep the memory of everything that has happened, while the rest of us forget,” Midna sighed. 

 

“I understand,” Link said sadly.  “I don’t like the situation at all, but I understand.” 

 

Midna trailed her hand to his shoulder and squeezed it.  He began eating, as if filling his stomach would help to ease his mind. 

 

“If you a-win, you will save us all,” Mario assured him, giving the Hylian a smile of confidence. 

 

“I have done things I was unsure about for the greater good,” Link answered. 

 

“We want you to ramp up the act, killer,” Samus said.  “How good are you at acting?” 

 

Link glared and snarled a wolf’s snarl at her. Then he gulped down some ravioli.  

 

“Very good,” she praised. 

 

“The more in the vein of violent psychosis you can convey, the better,” Pikachu said before stuffing some dipped bred into his mouth and puffing out his cheeks like a hamster. 

 

“Nothing can make a hero fall like a-falling in love,” Mario said.  “Be sure to play up that angle, too.” 

 

“No. Problem.” Midna said as she gently fed Link a small piece of dipped bread before nibbling his bottom lip. 

 

“What about Sheik?” Link asked after they broke off. 

 

“What about me?” someone said from the shadows.  Everyone startled as the object of their conversation stepped into the dim lighting.  Geno stared on impassively, like he’d known of the Sheikah warrior’s presence within his establishment the entire time.  “A little rude not to invite me down to eat, don’t you think?” 

 

Link gave a soft clap. “Very good!” 

 

Pikachu groomed an ear.  “How much have you heard?” 

 

“Since you came in,” Sheik spoke low.  “I assure you that I am nothing if not a servant.  The mission my other half gave to me is clear.  I am here to protect our Hero.  I will do whatever I need to do.” 

 

“And if the two of us are the last ones left?” Link asked. 

 

“I will allow you to slay me, of course,” Sheik said, matter-of-factly.  “I expect you to do a clean job. My spirit will rest easy, at least until you use the Triforce to reset the times.” 

 

Link paled slightly and held his head.  “I’m really not hungry anymore,” he said. Sheik took a seat next to him and finished his plate, surprisingly comfortable and calm about the whole affair.   

 

Midna rubbed his back.  “Link… trust yourself,” she said, her voice serious.  She tilted his chin up and looked him a hard look in the eyes.  “The Brawl of Honor is terrible.  I know that from experience.  I expect you to kill with much more honor than I did.  Think for a moment: Who do you trust to give your enemies a clean, easy death? Do you trust Bowser? Or the ape?  Neither of us know the other swordsman well…” 

 

“There is New Hyrule’s Link… the kid who hasn’t yet been able to become the Hero he was meant to be…” 

 

“Do you expect one of the arena’s traps to do him in nicely?” Midna reminded him.  “Or do you think it is more likely that Ganondorf will orchestrate a death for him like Shad’s?”

 

Link sighed deeply.  “I can make my sword swift.  I can dispatch my prey quickly with wolf’s fangs, as well.”  He sat up tall.  “In fact, I… I actually think I’m glad to have this opportunity.  If I act with mercy… and we make it to the Triforce and I can make it so none of this ever happened… It will only be me with the memories.”

 

“Yes,” Midna said.  “It is darkness you will have to bear alone.” 

 

“I’d rather take it on than let the kid take it upon himself.  Definitely.” 

 

Everyone at the table bowed their heads before Link.  Even Geno bowed from behind the bar counter. 

 

“It is a good and rare thing to see true heroism,” Pikachu said.  “The entire Resistance is behind you.  Act well.”    


	4. Pikachu and the Pokemon of NIMH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pikachu that entered the games was anything but a normal pokemon. His genius had dark origins. As much of a "humanlike mind" he gained, however, he remained a beast, knowing that the only law of the wild was survival.

**A Gathering of Sacrifices**

**THE FOURTH TALE:**

**Pikachu and the Pokemon of NIMH**

A cold cage was different than a pokeball.  The pikachu huddled in one corner of it, trying to shiver off the mild pain of wounds in its skin left by too-large needles.  Pokemon were usually kept in pokeballs.  The pikachu had been inside those before and did not care for that experience much, either. 

 

A memory washed over him of being warm against his mother’s side in a dry den in the forest, a tiny pichu newly hatched from an egg.  The creature in the cage did not have many memories.  Most had been taken from it by the things the men with long shadows had done to its head.  The pikachu, however, remembered the smells of the forest, the soft earth beneath its paws, the sight of sunlight dappling through layers of leaves up above him. 

 

He resolved to get back to that before realizing that he had, in fact, reasoned out the resolve. 

 

Yes, yes…. The men with long shadows… what had they called him in their language? A “subject.”  Why had he become familiar with their language?  “Subject” was the word spoken every day when he was taken from his cage.  It was the word spoken when his cage was cleaned and fresh food had been put down for him.  The other pokemon in cages around him moaned and growled.  Some of them called for their former trainers, to no avail.  Some spoke about the wilds.  Some were just hurt and wanted not to be hurt.  Others were simply afraid. 

 

Pikachu tiptoed to the edge of his cage and peered down through the bars at what he could make out of a placard.  He saw the symbols upon it – the human-symbols – and _understood_ them.   “Subject 025-A,” read the top part, followed by simple feeding-instructions.  On another placard were the words “Lift latch to open door.” The pikachu reached and strained one of his forepaws through the bars to do just that. 

 

He hadn’t anticipated that the floor was a long way down.  The pokemon tumbled and landed hard.  Thankfully, he had not broken anything (a few bruises, perhaps), and he had not awakened any of the beings with long shadows.  The room remained dim, lit only by a few safety-lights and the screensaver on the large computer at the far wall.  Pikachu approached it, staring at the hurtling starry field in an imaginary void of space. 

 

He tried to ignore the grunts and groans of the other pokemon here.  They were all “subjects.”  He walked past a cage filled with a mixed litter of tiny meowth and skitty kittens, all huddled together in the absence of a mother. One of the meowths gave him a long stare – and a deeper kind of stare than they usually gave anyone or anything.  It was as if it was as _aware_ as the pikachu had become.   The electric-rodent shook it off and continued toward the computer.  He felt drawn to it as if it were the very source of life.  He felt the energy of its stored and humming electricity though his fur, bones and spirit. 

 

As he hopped up into the chair and brought the screen to life by pressing his forepaws down on the keyboard, he _understood_. He understood what the keyboard was for and what the letters meant.  He could read the languages of the signs on the wall – the human languages – though some of them were entirely different from one another and said the same things with different configurations of letters or different characters altogether.  Data shot through his brain instantly, just by being in the proximity to the machine. 

 

Pokemon were creatures which could be converted into energy and data.  This was how pokeballs worked and how computer storage for them worked.  Artificial worlds could be created within a computer system to keep pokemon happy.  When they were traveling with their trainers inside a ball, they were put into a kind of stasis or sleep – one where it was possible for them to know roughly what was going on unless they had fainted from exertion or battle.  The entire modern pokemon industry replied upon the fact that for pokemon, flesh and data could be one and the same and easily transferable. 

 

Still, the pikachu had never experienced this kind of data-transfer before.  Perhaps the electrical data was merging with own stored electricity as his little claws clacked over the keys.  Maybe, whatever the men who worked here had done to him had increased his capacity to merge with data.  All he knew was that over the last couple of weeks, he’d been learning many new things and retaining the information.  His mind and his world had been expanding.  He’d been talking to the other pikachu in the cage below his through the floor, a little female, but their conversations had been growing increasingly one-sided.  She’d stopped being able to understand most things he said to her, it seemed. 

 

The humans would have been better company, but they also failed to understand him.  They also failed to stop jamming him with needles and putting wires to his cheek-pouches. 

 

The humans’ data – the data flying at him at the speed of light as he used his intuition to break through the locks on the files… ah, yes, this was good company.  It also confirmed his status as a “subject.”  His little female friend, was of course, in the “control group.”  She hadn’t been stuck, prodded and cut with needles, wires and knives.   

 

This place was a laboratory and there were many experiments and projects.  Some of the pokemon were being given “treatments” to boost muscle-mass.  The cage that was cleaned out last week, the espeon… he’d been given something similar to the chemicals that Pikachu had been injected with specifically to increase his psychic abilities. He’d suffered a fatal stroke.  There were references to the “M2-Experiment” that had gone on somewhere else under the supervision of a different group than what worked here.  The file that Pikachu brought up showed him the single member of an artificial species of pokemon created from the genetic material of an excessively rare creature. 

 

After he’d binged on data, the pikachu decided that he did not want to stick around this place.  The men with long shadows did not need to know that they had successfully “boosted” his brain.  They did not deserve to know.  He saw a high-window that had been left slightly ajar to air out the lab.  Either some careless intern had forgotten to close it or it was left open on purpose by the crew, never dreaming that there’d be a problem with it.  Just as he was about to leap onto a desk and make the jump up to the window, something stopped him. 

 

The light of the moon caught the coin atop the head of that one meowth kitten that had been staring at him.  The moon also caught his eyes.  They pleaded with the pikachu.  His brothers and the skitties let out soft mews and little purrs.   The other pokemon were at rapt attention in their cages, starting down at Pikachu.  Even the old, defanged houndoom on a chain in the corner woke up and pawed the floor impatiently. 

 

Wary of any humans that might be outside the laboratory to hear, the pikachu began to systematically unlatch cages.  He jumped up and, with the help of a muscle-boosted rattata, managed to slide the window open enough to let the larger subjects out.  A freed sandslash broke the chain on the houndoom and even he was able to wedge himself through the window, just barely. 

 

The last to leave, Pikachu sent a sound Thundershock through the computer.  He’d gotten all of the data from it he’d needed.  The laboratory-humans didn’t deserve to have it anymore. 

 

 

After some time, the woods began to bore the pikachu.  He’d taken the control group female as his mate, but she’s scampered off after they’d spent a week together, presumably to lay their eggs without him.  It was not like Pikachu had remembered any parent other than his mother.  He realized that he was merely a “buck.”  His new self-awareness made him long for more than that, but he knew that the little female wouldn’t have been happy as a wife. 

 

He found himself making structures out of twigs and rocks and sculpting things out of riverbank mud.  The pokemon had become creative.  Instead of taking to a standard den for pikachu, he’d developed his home into something almost like the better parts of the lab.  He’d created cushions out of plant floss and wild pokemon fur found in the fields, woven with different patterns.  He’d made himself bowls for his food out of clay he baked with fires he’d set off with his electricity.  Pikachu was comfortable, but he was lonely.  He could still speak to the wild creatures, but few understood the complexity of his ideas. 

 

Pikachu found himself frequenting the outskirts of a town to steal small items and to nibble on electrical wires to boost his energy.  It was a fairly common habit for pikachu.  He managed to duck all detection and he got bolder.  His hubris caught up with him, however, when a young pokemon trainer managed to corner him.  The pikachu defended himself well against the boy’s squirtle, downing it quickly.  It was the charmander, however, that weakened him enough to prevent escape.  Pikachu felt a sensation that he had not known for what, to him, was an age.  His data was energized and transferred into a pokeball.  He tried to resist the loyalty programming of the ball, but, as intelligent as he was, he failed. 

 

He reluctantly began his life as a tamed beast.

 

The boy, named Red, was actually quite nice, for a human.  He spoke to Pikachu gently and pushed treats over to him when it became clear that he did not trust humankind.  Red coaxed him with delicious things, little poffins and puffs, until the pikachu was in range to be touched.  Red seemed to be appalled when the tips of his fingers found old, numb scars.  Red was extra careful with Pikachu in battle, withdrawing him before he fainted out and healing him with items right away.  It was as if Red had been able to sense that his pikachu’s life had started out quite rough and that he needed extra attention in order to develop trust. 

 

When the boy seemed to understand some of Pikachu’s body language and what he’d meant with some of his cries, Pikachu decided to train him. 

 

The electric-mouse pointed to objects and used particular inflections in his language to get the young man to understand that those were his words for those objects and that he had a greater complexity in speech than the other creatures he trained.  He could not use telepathy like some of the psychic pokemon, but he’d found communication almost as good.  Red was a bright boy and took quickly.  It was not long before the two would walk along the roadways having conversations that no other pokemon trainer could make sense of.    

 

Red… really was the best trainer that Pikachu could ask for, even though he was the only person who had trained him formally.  With the young man’s friendship, he nearly forgot about his days in the laboratory.  Red always stroked him carefully, avoiding needle and biopsy scars.  Pikachu could not fully describe to him what had gone on, as the language-barrier between them still contained limits, but was able to type out some of his story in the word processing program of Red’s travel-computer. 

 

“Team Rocket?” the boy asked once, as he sat on a bench, looking at what his pet had tapped out on his little laptop.   

 

Pikachu gave him a shake of the head.  “I don’t know,” he’d communicated. “I do not know what group they were.” 

 

“Groups like that seem to pop up over all the regions,” Red sighed.  “People seeking power, abusing pokemon to get it.” 

 

Pikachu took the device in his paws again, typed and then read the words to Red in “Pikanese;”  “As long as there are more humans like you in the world than them, we pokemon will be okay.” 

 

Red smiled and rubbed him behind the ears.  “You’re too kind.” 

 

“Should we give Charemeleon some exercise, then?” the pikachu asked, without using the type. 

 

“That’s a fine idea.”  

 

With that, Pikachu ran off into the bushes to flush out some healthy low-level pokemon that could survive a good fight for his “brother”-pokemon to practice on.

 

 

Red waved goodbye to Pikachu for a while when he was called away to special fighting tournaments in another world.  He’d been chosen for it specifically, having gained notoriety with Red in the Pokemon League. 

 

The fights in that other world at the center-of-worlds were wonderful. They were challenging and fun.  Pikachu made many friends, including the “M2-experiment,” which had also been called.  Mewtwo hadn’t gotten over a sense of misanthropy, considering himself a pokemon not to be tamed or to become a “pet.”  He insulted Pikachu with that term, “pet,” and “pretty little pet.” Sometimes, he spiced up the insults with “slave.”  Pikachu shrugged it off.  Red was his friend and he did not see it any other way.  He got along with Mewtwo, anyway.  They had a lot to share with each other in regards to a shared history as experimental subjects.   

 

Pikachu grew a special attachment to the human boys with the long ears like he had.  He learned that they were Hylians – and two different versions of the same person, youth and age taken from different parts of their timeline.  Both the Links took to his language quickly.  He was surprised, frankly.  He’d had a deep connection with Red and Red hadn’t caught on so easily.  Pikachu decided that maybe the “magic in their blood” had helped their understanding. 

 

The little one, Young Link… Pikachu thought that he would have made a dynamite pokemon trainer.  He had a keen sense for nature and was determined, brave and kind – all qualities that most pokemon instinctually responded to.

 

Pikachu returned from the tournaments refreshed and with stories to tell his dear Red.

 

Later, he regretted these good times, for he had been registered and his data had been given a tracking-number.  There was no way he had of knowing what the future would bring.  Not even the Psychic-type pokemon were able to see it coming. 

 

 

 

 

The world changed quickly.  Invaders from a world outside came, servants of a man with terrible power.  Some said that he was a legendary pokemon reborn, some unknown spirit of Evil.   This “Ganon” was from another universe entirely, however.  The most powerful trainers faced him and his minions, only to watch their powerful pokemon fall.  Unlike in honorable pokemon-battles, those that fell did not get up.  Those that faced down Ganondorf’s army died.  Their pokemon died.  The situation was like the legendary great war of Kalos that had so ravaged the land that entire species when extinct and the forests were full of the spirits of lost children.   

 

The Legendary Birds rose up, like in the days of myth.  Articuno, Zapdos and Moltres fell, and though they were not seen to have died, they vanished from the land.  Even Lugia rose from the sea and was sent back there by Ganondorf himself as he marched along the coast.  Mewtwo was captured alive. 

 

Some people said that the Guardians of Life and Death from Kalos could surely route him.  No amount of prayers to Xerneas brought the great deer up to protect their lives.  Yveltal remained at rest in the depths of the earth, unable to smite the sorcerer and his servants with a deeper, righteous darkness.  Both the beast and the bird of the ancient stories remained too wounded from the legendary war to participate in the current one. 

 

Pikachu remembered Ganondorf from his time in the tournaments.  He was the adversary of Link – both the Young and Adult versions.  Both the Links had told him about their land’s “Evil King.”  The electric-rodent never would have guessed the sorcerer would have been able to subjugate his entire universe even as the holder of the “Triforce of Power” until he’d seen it happen.   

 

Pikachu had thought it almost as if that horrible man had been granted some kind of terrible divine wish. 

 

Once those that wanted to save themselves, their families and their pokemon had surrendered and Ganon’s dominance had been established, the Games began.  The new President of the Worlds of Ninten revived the old cross-world tournaments, with a catch.  This time, the tournaments had a defined structure and were deadly. 

 

Pikachu cuddled close to Red as he watched the ending day of first “Brawl of Honor” in horror from his family’s living room with them.  The new tournaments, of course, were required viewing. Anyone caught outside after the curfew – and when the Brawl was airing, was asking for arrest, even “disappearance.”    

 

“Pika!”  Pikachu yelped as Red gripped his fur too hard. 

 

“I’m sorry…” he said. “It’s just… it’s almost over, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” Pikachu answered. 

 

“We are supposed to be rooting for Mewtwo, aren’t we?”

 

“Not necessarily.  I’d like to see Link come out of it.” 

 

“Really?  I don’t know… I think he wants to join his brother.” 

 

It was the white-knuckle end, down to the last fighters.  Red had gotten sick more than once during the airings.  He knew that he’d be expected to know what had happened, so he watched and his mother with him.  She was crying during nearly the entire broadcast, during all the prime-time showings.  Mother, son and pokemon had all cuddled up during some of the grisly live-aired scenes and the grisly re-caps and updates. 

 

“Why aren’t you pulling for Mewtwo?” Red asked, genuinely curious. 

 

“It doesn’t matter if he wins,” the mouse said matter-of-factly.  “His attitude toward humans is unlikely to change.  He will retreat to some hiding spot… will probably get our entire world in trouble again along the way by refusing any further demands.  Link, however… he may be small, but he’s also outside of Time.  He is very brave and Ganondorf is his enemy, from his world.  If anyone is going to be able to take him out of power and put this kind of horror show to an end, it will be him.”

 

“In that case, it might have been better if the older one had survived.”

 

“Perhaps.  But Young Link has fire and not just in his arrows. Trust me.” 

 

 

 

 

Indeed, the surviving Young Link did mount a revolution.  Pikachu did not join it, because he did not want Red to join it, which Red would have had he done so.  His own life he could give up, but not Red’s.  Young Link failed.  What had started with a bang had ended with a whimper.

 

Pikachu would not know why Ganondorf had kept Link alive until he, himself, was called to Brawl and could see for himself how broken the young man, now called “Toki” had become by surviving through his failures.

 

The pikachu’s data had been tracked from his time in the “peaceful” tournaments. A burly moblin had to pry Pikachu out of Red’s arms.  Pikachu parted with a Nuzzle – just enough to paralyze the boy’s cheek as a little “kiss,” not enough to hurt him. 

 

“If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s survive!,” he cried in Pikanese as he was taken toward the portal. 

 

“You’re smarter than any of ‘em!” Red called back. 

 

“Darn straight, kid!  I’ll come back to you!” 

 

 

 

 

Pikachu did come back.  His arena was nothing special, actually something of a varied landscape.  It was fairly cold and snow had fallen over the rocky terrain.  He utilized all of the survival tricks of a wild pokemon, known by instinct as well as a keen “human-like” mind. 

 

Not being human despite having the intelligence of one (and a higher intelligence than many) aided him. As a pokemon, he didn’t have, entirely, the same sense of morality as a typical human had.  He knew that he was fundamentally different from Red.  Red had a “soft heart,” one that would impede his survival if he was in a do-or-die situation.  Good humans like him did not kill their own kind or anything they deemed “like them” enough. The boy never thought too hard about the hamburgers or sushi that he ate, either.  Pikachu thought of those things all the time. 

 

Trained pokemon did not kill other pokemon.  They were cared for by their trainers and fed a fortified, vitamin-rich diet with occasional treats and snarfing off their masters’ plates.  It was a dishonor to kill in a matched-battle.  The rules of the wild, however, were very different.  Wild pikachu preferred berries and nuts to meat, but Pikachu, himself, had raided pidgey nests for eggs and for newly hatched baby birds which he dispatched quickly during his days taking care of himself.  He also talked to pidgeys all the time.  It did not matter.  Hunger was hunger and when he’d needed protein desperately, beings of the kind he’d befriend were, unfortunately, a part of his menu.  He knew that liepards that stalked deerlings and pyroar that ate bunnelby were the same way.  During trips to Kalos, Unova and other regions outside of Kanto, he’d met pokemon that had done that regularly in the wild who were great friends and “brothers” to the prey species that were on their teams, kept by their trainers.

 

Pikachu did not speak to Red about this.  He figured he knew, since he studied the Pokedex, and he didn’t think talking about it in detail would do anything but upset him. 

 

All of the other fighters underestimated him, thinking of him as “cute” or “just a rat.”  They made the very fatal mistake of thinking that because he was an “animal” that he was therefore stupid.  If anything, Ganondorf’s crew was stupid that year.  They’d left some of their lighting equipment behind on one of the mountain slopes.  A coil of nice, conductive wire was all Pikachu needed to show those who had called him “dumb” just what a cunning beast he really was. 

 

He laid his traps.

 

Lightning did really cut through plate-armor in a nasty fashion, the pokemon thought.  The smell of cooking meat was almost enticing after the hunger had taken hold of him.  There was very little in the ways of nuts and berries in this arena.  Burning hair and clothing wasn’t at all pleasant.  The burning mushroom-smell from that one little dude’s headwear was excessively weird. 

 

It took a little longer for his enemies to die than he wished, Pikachu thought, but he did what he’d had to do.  It was the wild and he was surviving.  Survival was the only “law” in nature – Live and pass on your strength.  Only those that survived evolved. 

 

Yveltal take the rest.

 

 

 

 

“I don’t think I can train you anymore.”

 

Pikachu looked back at Red after being released from a seldom-used pokeball. 

 

“Why not?” Pikachu asked.  He twitched his ears and stroked his forepaws nervously.  “I won, didn’t I?  I came back to you.” 

 

Red crouched down in the tall grass in a field outside Viridian Forest.  “I don’t think I have any more to teach you,” he said. 

 

Pikachu knew that he was lying.  He could see that little twitch in his lips that indicated an untruth or a half-truth.  He’d seen the boy use it on his mother when he tried to weasel out of chores all the time.  This little twitch was for something stronger than “Yeah, I took the trash out, Mom,” before running off to a friend’s house, or “The growlithe ate my homework.” 

 

“You don’t have much more to teach Charizard, either,” Pikachu pointed out.  “He is ready for the Elites, as am I.” 

 

“The Pokemon League will not let me use you in legitimate battle anymore,” Red explained.  “You entered the Brawl of Honor and won.  You are considered too strong and too… dangerous.” 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Pikachu said, craning his neck up.  Red was giving him a strange gaze. It was full of sadness, but moreover, it was full of an emotion that every wild creature knew very well; fear. 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” the mouse continued.  “I did not work hard to win just to be used in battle.  What kept me wanting to stay alive was the thought of coming back to you!  You are my friend.  I just want to be by your side, whether I am allowed to fight or not.”

 

Red shook his head and adjusted his hat.  “I…I can’t… I can’t anymore, Pikachu. I’m sorry.” 

 

A tear fell down the boy’s right cheek. 

 

“What? Why not?” Pikachu’s cheeks were sparking slightly in panic. 

 

“I saw what you did in the Brawl stage,” came the boy’s hoarse whisper.  “I… I didn’t know you were capable of that… of using your power like that.  The people you killed… you killed people…and it was horrible…”

 

“So what?” Pikachu yelped, fuzzing out his tail and throwing out his forepaws.  “It was for survival! They were predators! I got rid of my problem in the most efficient way I could!”

 

“Don’t you feel bad for it, though?”

 

“Why should I? I shouldn’t expect you to understand, you’re a human!”  Pikachu put his back to him and folded his forepaws.  “You live by different rules… normally, or, at least, the best of you do.” 

 

“I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was a little bit afraid of you now.”

 

“You don’t have to be, Red, you don’t have to be.  I did what I had to do so I could come home to… you.”

 

Pikachu turned around and found that Red was gone. 

 

 

 

Once again, Pikachu tried to live a wild creature’s life.   He’d built another fancy den, this time, making things that reminded him of Red’s home.  His life was no longer fully his own, however.  Every damn year he got called back to Smash City to play “mentor” at the tournaments to the poor creatures that were chosen for it from this world. 

 

Most of the time, it was fellow pokemon.  They were typically taken from the rank and file of trained pokemon registered to high ranking trainers.  Pokemon were preferred because they were fighting creatures with spectacular powers that made for a good show for Ganondorf and the audience in Smash City.  Humans were not immune from being chosen, however.  Pikachu had managed to communicate with those few who had been chosen.  One year, some poor old lady named Drasna had been sent to her death.  Pikachu found her classy and lovely and had done his best for her, but her body had not been up to it that year. 

 

The year he saw Red again, nearly a grown man but still looking like a young boy, clean-faced and bright-eyed, he’d blown out the power in the entire Smash City Champions’ Hotel.  Twice – at the beginning of the Brawl when all the fighters entered the arena, and, after it had been fixed, in the middle of the Brawl when he knew he’d never get to be Red’s pokemon ever again.  

 

“You have to be ready to do anything,” Pikachu had told him on the night before the beginning of battle.   

 

“I don’t think I am…” Red said nervously. 

 

“Then find a friend who is,” the rodent said, glaring.

 

“I’m glad you’re coaching me,” Red said softly.  “I’m sorry… I’m sorry about before…”

 

Pikachu responded with a gentle Nuzzle, leaving Red numb and tingly.  Red gave him a scratch behind the ears.   “You have Squirtle in there,” the rodent reminded him.  “And you know how to use him.”

 

“If we survive, will Ganondorf make us… him and me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Even though he was growing out of boyhood, Red cried.  He held his hands up to hide his face and to catch the tears.  His old friend rubbed his back with a paw. 

 

“If it comes to it,” Pikachu said gently, choking on the words, “think about it the same way the nurses in Pokemon Centers think about very badly injured pokemon that are brought into them – ones that cannot be healed.  You know, the ones that bad trainers hurt or the ones that get into accidents.  You can spare him having to do anything to you.”

 

“Don’t you think he’d want to survive?  Survival is the law of nature.”

 

“I could kill strangers,” Pikachu confessed.  “But if it came down to it, I’d rather you kill me than me kill you.  I don’t think Squirtle and I are very different.”

 

 

 

 

As it went, Red found a friend who was willing to do what he could not.  Midna of the Twilight Realm was fierce and matter-of-fact.  She was, in Pikachu’s reckoning, a true Dark-type.  She did not relish killing, even if she enjoyed getting the upper hand in a fight. When she met Red in the great castle that was their Brawl stage, she respected his innocence and chose to talk with him rather than fight him. 

 

She spoke quite a lot about “training wolves.”

 

Together, they wended their way over ruins and figured out various puzzles to unlocking doors to various floors of the strange place.  Squirtle had been lost along the way, taken by a large alliance that lost a couple of its members to Midna’s swift magical bolts.  The remaining members of the group made turtle-soup that night.  Midna wrapped Red up in her robes and comforted him.  He’d wanted to avenge Squritle with a rusted sword he’d found on one of the floors, but Midna talked him out of it, telling him that it was wise to bide their time. 

 

And she comforted him later as he was dying from wounds he’d suffered when they’d next met up with that rival group.  She managed to avenge him. 

 

After that Brawl was over, Pikachu decided that he really liked Midna.

 

 

 

Pikachu wandered down the main hall that divided the Champions’ rooms from the training area and the main viewing area.  He passed Toki, looking a little more sober than usual – probably because he’d taken a shine to the boy he was looking after this year, not that the kid had a chance. 

 

He needed to meet up with the Lady Samus Aran.  They needed to figure out how to cobble together a facsimile of her power armor – something that would fool Ganondorf’s eyes and the eyes of the stage crew and the audience.  If what he’d been planning with Midna was to go through, Samus needed to take a decoy into battle, something she could fake a death in and something she could leave behind. 

 

Toki had given him glares over his lackadaisical treatment of his pokemon charges.  What Toki didn’t know was that all of his chips were in the survival-game now and he knew they were already lost.  He had the connections and the knowledge – all from secret hackings into the computer grid done over the years – to finish what Toki had been brave enough to start, but not determined enough to finish. 

 

Pikachu had not succumbed to sorrow over Red.  He grieved, but he did not let himself be consumed in grief.  Toki wallowed in his pain like houndour pups wallowed in road kill.  Pikachu could smell the despair and apathy on him – past all of the smells of liquor, sweat and vomit.  Midna mourned his Red, too, which was strange, as they were not of the same world and had not known each other before their Brawl. 

 

They all had someone that “broke” them, Pikachu supposed.  Toki had his brother, the other Hero of Time, whom he’d killed by mistake.  Midna had Red, who’d died in her arms and Pikachu had him as his always-missed former trainer.  None of them could know it until the events happened, but in the relatively near future, Toki’s young protégée would be broken, much like Midna, by a friend he’d made in the Brawl, an angel who was fiercer than he looked but too good for his own good.

 

It was nearing time for Pikachu, Mario and Midna, with Samus and Link ‘d Ordon in tow to “go out to dinner” again.    

 

Coming up with strategies for survival… that was what Pikachu knew best. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> **  
> For those who do not quite get the chapter title due to youth, the chapter title is in reference to an old book that is better known for Don Bluth’s adaptation of it as an animated movie. If you haven’t seen it, do yourself a favor and look up “The Secret of NIMH.” You’ll either thank me for telling you about something very beautiful or curse me for it giving you nightmare fuel. I’ve read the book, too, but back when I was 10 or 11 and I haven’t been able to find a copy since.
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> **Pikachu in the “National Anthem” universe is, obviously, more of a random pikachu than the star of the Pokemon anime. I thought it better that way, that he have his own backstory.**
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> **I did not put much detail into Pikachu’s Brawl because I did not know, exactly, who should have been there with him. This is a challenge I am going to face when writing Midna and Red’s Brawl, which is a story I want to do. I know that Midna and Red are there, obviously, and that Zant is the last of Midna’s enemies. The rest, I do not know. If readers have any suggestions of who you’d like to see fight and die, both villains and random, in that particular Brawl, leave who and why on a review or PM me. I haven’t played all the videogames/series represented in the Smash series, and some I’ve played a bit of, but haven’t played in-depth so you may have to give me a description and outside links for research (Fire Emblem or Earthbound/Mother or Star Fox characters, for example) I pretty much know all Legend of Zelda characters, so all they’d need is a mention. Make sure they aren’t characters who have already been mentioned in this series or in “National Anthem”-proper as dying in other Brawls or as alive. I also cannot involve anything from Metroid or Kid Icarus since those worlds are “newly inducted” into the death-games as of the events of “National Anthem.” Likewise, I’d rather not include any of the new announced for Super Smash 4 characters. I have enough of the legacy-Links in this story already. NO OCS.**
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> **The Midna and Red story will not be the next story. I have a couple of other sides stories in mind before I get to theirs, which gives you time to make suggestions and me the time to think.**
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> ****


	5. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After every Brawl, even the lone survivor is left a mess. Link "Toki" Kokirin, the mentor, visits his young charge, "Tiny" Link Outsetter in the infirmary. While the staff heals the child's body, Toki hopes to do something about the kid's soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Note: For those for whom it’s been a while since they read the base-story (that should be read before this one), “National Anthem,” Link (Hero of Time) and Toon Link (Hero of Winds) call each other “Toki” and “Tiny” / “Little Link” respectively - and think of each other in such nicknames._

**A Gathering of Sacrifices**

**THE FIFTH TALE:**

**Recovery**

It was late evening before Link Kokirin was allowed to visit the latest Brawl victor on the day of his win.  He entered the infirmary quietly and asked the attendant nurse to leave them alone.  She acquiesced, but only because her patient was awake and doing well and because she felt the need to favor a pair of Champions. 

 

“Toki” entered a room and parted a curtain to find “Tiny” sitting up in bed with a big wooden bowl and a spoon eating what appeared to be homemade soup.  Toki thought it smelled wonderful.  Tiny’s face brightened when he saw his mentor.  He set the bowl on a bedside table next to something lumpy wrapped up in a white towel.   

 

“It’s my grandma’s,” he explained.  “I don’t know how they got it here so quickly, especially…without my grandma…”

 

Toki sat down heavily in a chair beside the bed.  “Maybe they thought seeing your family would be too much for you right now.”

 

Little Link Outsetter was quite a sight.  He was much cleaner than Toki had last seen him, on-screen.  He did, however, have messy hair, evidencing that he’d spent some time asleep recently and he was dressed in an ugly floral-print hospital gown.  He had an IV of clear fluid hooked up to one arm.  He was sitting atop his blankets, so the elder Champion could see his bandaged leg. 

 

“Maybe,” the younger Link said, looking down at his leg.  “I did sleep most of the day.  I don’t know whether they drugged me or if I really was that exhausted. I wouldn’t have been good company.  They say I’ll be pretty well mended by morning.  They stitched up that wound that Bowser gave me and put chu-chu jelly on it.”

 

“I was exhausted after my Brawl, too,” Toki offered.  “The medical staff practically had to force me to eat.  I was starving, but didn’t feel like food.”

 

“It’s food from my grandma,” Little Link insisted.  “They couldn’t get me to eat anything but this. I can always eat my grandma’s soup, though.  It’s good for healing the body, but it’s really…”

 

“Good for the soul?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“A bit of old Hylian brown liquor is good for the soul, too – and Chateau Romani.”

 

“No thanks,” Outsetter replied. “I’m already in a hospital.  I don’t think I want to get sicker.”

 

“Later, perhaps, when you’re out of here tomorrow.”

 

“Maybe, but gifts from my grandma are better.”   

 

“Yer makin’ me miss my granny, kid, and I never met her.” 

 

Tiny gave Toki a smile.  “I’m sure I can ask for another bottle of soup.  We Champions are supposed to be catered to, right?”

 

“To a degree,” Toki said with a nod, “But, I’m afraid, kid, that I must welcome you to Hell.” 

 

“It already feels like it,” the boy sighed.  He looked at his hands.  “I killed someone today,” he said.  “I can’t believe it.  I mean… Bowser was sort of a monster-type, I guess, but he had a mind and was really only in the arena for the same reasons the rest of us were. It didn’t feel like… anything that heroes are supposed to do.  I wasn’t thinking too much at the time, but I’ve been thinking about it every time I’ve been awake today.”

 

Toki put a hand on Tiny’s shoulder.  “I know.  And you know that I haven’t been called a hero in a long time, myself.  Don’t mull over it too much.  You did the right thing.”

 

“The right thing?” Little Link shot back, scowling.  “How can you say that?  It didn’t feel right at all!” 

 

Toki smiled sadly.  “You did what you had to in order to survive, Tiny.  You were also defending a friend.”

 

“Pit,” the boy sighed, looking down, letting his bangs hide his eyes.  He reached for the towel on the bedside table and carefully unwrapped it to reveal a golden laurel-crown. He rubbed the edges of a few of the leaves with a corner of the towel and held it with great reverence. 

 

“That’s…”

 

“Yeah, I took it off him,” Link Outsetter mumbled.  “I don’t really know what I was thinking.” 

 

“They let you keep it?”

 

“The Smash City people haven’t said anything about it. Miss Peach hasn’t even visited me since I first arrived back. Earlier, a weird man in armor with a big nose and wings on his head came in here fluttering? Hovering? Something… He told me that I had Lady Palutena’s favor now because I was kind to his captain and that she wanted me to have it or something… I think I might have dreamed it all.”

 

The former Hero of Time shook his head gently.  “Nope,” he said.  “I don’t think you dreamed that. I saw a group of those guys out in one of the halls.  From what I gather, they’re Pit’s people, guys from his army.  Some of them looked like they were trying to carry bows, but they weren’t there because weapons aren’t allowed beyond the training hall.  I think they were here for…um…to pick up…uh…”

 

“Yeah,” Little Link said sadly.  “So, I guess he really was a commander, really was who he said he was.” 

 

“Why would you think anything different?” Toki asked. 

 

“Well you didn’t seem to think much of him before the Brawl.” 

 

“Hey, he looked young…and a bit goofy. Then again, I’m the last person who should discount youth.”

 

Tiny’s face took on a dark look and he grit his teeth in frustration.  “I rammed a sword through someone’s head to save his life and he died on me, anyway.” 

 

“It’s not like he had a choice in the matter, and you still did the right thing, kid.  Bowser would have barbequed him.  I think burning to death was very low on Pit’s list of good ways to die.”

 

“Fever burned him down… slowly.” 

 

Toki grabbed Tiny’s hand.  “You were with him.  Given the choice, I’d much rather die in the arms of a friend than be immolated by dragon-fire.”  Toki patted his hand.  “Thanks to you, he was able to die well.” 

 

“If there is such a thing as dying well,” Little Link mumbled.  “Link,” he said, using the name shared by them both rather than the “Toki”-nickname, “I don’t know if you saw on the screen but… he was _smiling_.  Smiling!  It was strange…seeing that.”  Tears were welling up in Link Outsetter’s eyes and running down his cheeks.  “I suppose… I should be happy that he was a peace enough to do that, but it just looked so _wrong_.  He was there…th-th-there… dead, with such an easy look…”  

 

“Hey,” Toki said gently, “I think he smiled because he was happy that you were going to survive.  Pit knew it was the way it had to be and that succumbing to the infection was better than you two fighting it out.  He wanted you to survive.  He wanted you to live.”

 

“We were going to try to survive together… to find a way out.”

 

“There is no way out in the Brawl, Tiny.  Lots of alliances before yours thought that, and they’d all turned out the same way.  Either someone or a stage-danger kills the friendship, or the allies break down and fight each other when survival-instincts or thoughts of home kick in.  You and Pit never became enemies.  I think he was very happy to see you as the Champion.” 

 

The younger Link turned the laurel-crown in his hands.  Fresh tears came when he plucked a small brown hair from its place coiled around a leaf and the stem. 

 

Toki rubbed his back.  “He was a physical-angel, but an angel nonetheless… he might be watching over us, in spirit or somethin’.”

 

Tiny bit his lip.  “He didn’t know what was going to happen to his soul in this realm. He mentioned to me that he was worried about fading away.” 

 

“I don’t think so,” Toki said, trying to be comforting about things that he had no certainty about.   

 

With that, Tiny gave Toki one of his “tough” looks and placed the laurel-crown upon his head.  “This crown is for victory,” he said.  “I don’t care what Ganondorf thinks. I will wear this to my speeches and in front of the crowds and cameras to carry those who’ve lost into my ‘victory,’ whether he likes it or not!”

 

“Great goin’, kid,” Toki said, grinning ear to ear.  “I actually have a better way you can carry your victory.  I cannot talk much of it here, but… there’s a way for you to fight for your friends.”  

 

Link Kokirin whispered into little Link Outsetter’s ear, very carefully and under the guise of a hug and back-pat to comfort the ailing and mourning boy. 

 

“For Pit, for Bowser… even for Link ‘d Ordon… for them all,” Toki finished.

 

“Midna?” Little Link asked, “You want me to talk with Midna?”

 

“Yep,” the elder Link said.  “I’ll be with you, so don’t you worry about her…demeanor. You’re in our plans now – a part of the Champions’ Club.” 

 

The ex-Hero of Time looked around, trying to make sure any cameras or listening devices were not picking up on his sharing clandestine plans formed just today by the resistance he’d just been mandated to join. 

 

“I’m in the club,” Tiny said, wiping away his tears, also being very careful with his expressions in case the eyes of Ganon were everywhere.  “And thanks for visiting me, Toki.  I’m feeling better already.”

 

Toki nodded.  “Remember,” he said, “Recovery can happen in more ways than one.”


	6. Timeless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the darkest of story-series needs some comic relief. 
> 
> After everything has been set right, the former Hero of Time gets a little unexpected - and unwanted thanks from a certain angel and his goddess. In these better times, Pit's humor could be a little trollish. It is only because he has learned from a master of the art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
>  
> 
> _One of my reviewers (on fanfiction.net) gave me the basic idea for this in a private message some time ago. Anonymity to protect the guilty - you know who you are. Anyway, someone wanted to see Pit and “Toki” have a conversation after the events of “National Anthem” in one of these side-tales. I was going to make said story an end-cap to this supplemental series, but given the new Smash Bros. 4 character announcements, I couldn’t resist writing up a different variation on that idea._
> 
>  
> 
> _This is not an ending-tale. In fact, I was already at work on another one of these side-stories before one of the E3 reveals begged my brain to just go ahead and do this. If Pit can be a bit of a troll sometimes – it is only because he has learned from the master._
> 
>  
> 
> __

**A Gathering of Sacrifices**

**THE SIXTH TALE:**

**Timeless**

The latest tournament was wrapping up. The Brawl that Master Hand had created had gone splendidly, without death or any kind of lasting injury, just as the gatherings of the past had been.  Toki smiled as he walked the grounds outside the mansion that served as the living quarters for all of the fighters in the heart of Smash City.  It was much better than the hotel he’d known in another time and what may as well have been another place.  Here, there were gardens, a field and a forest surrounding the grounds.  The city lay beyond, but the noise from it did not disturb the peace.  Master and Crazy hand respected their “Smash” fighters as athletes, while Ganondorf had only kept unwilling slaves. 

 

Link, the once Hero of Time, had gone by the nickname of “Toki” while here as a spectator and an advisor to his time-split descendants.  While it brought back some bad memories, “Toki” was a nickname he was used to and it helped him to be distinguished from the other Links.  The youngest of them, whom he still sometimes called “Tiny,” had been nicknamed “Toon” by all the fighters because he had big expressive eyes and round features that reminded those who read comics of comic-drawings and those that watched animation of animated characters.  When “Link” was being called, it usually meant someone was looking for the Hero of Twilight rather than either of them.  Toki wasn’t such a bad name, really… it denoted Time. 

 

Toki was ready to head to the portal to head back to his proper time and place.  He’d stuck around for some of the celebrations.  There was more than just the end of Brawl to celebrate.  The next tournament had already been announced by Master and Crazy Hand. Fighters that were slated to return had their future accommodations and places on the roster arranged.  New fighters were slated, as well – and some of them had been rather surprising.  Toki was long-retired, but he stuck around simply to see some of the newly-accepted candidates tour the grounds like eager college students checking out their near-future campus. 

 

Toki had rather liked the spunk of the little robot-boy… or was he a cyborg?  Link was the hero of a magical world and so he never knew exactly how to address beings built of technology.  He figured that Samus might show him the ropes.  There was a rumor that she’d gotten into a non-regulation fight with the new boxer on the roster already.  He got a look across the west-garden at a pair of pale-skinned yoga instructors, a man and a woman, who had inexplicably been chosen to go against people and creatures with amazing powers. At the moment, they were instructing some of those people and creatures in poses and breathing techniques.  A big, blue humanoid-frog was lounging in the garden pond as if it were a hot-tub.  “Tiny” was running around with a little boy about his size with similar rounded features chasing bugs with a net.  There was something a little unsettling about that kid and Toki couldn’t put his finger on it. 

 

“Hey! Toki!” 

 

Link cringed at that voice.  He turned around, nonetheless, his gaze meeting an angel that was sitting in a tree.  Pit had been over the moon with joy lately.  Toki could not fault him and was in fact, very happy for him.  After what the kid had been through in the timeline only he knew about, Toki wanted the boy to have all the happiness fate had to throw at him. 

 

He’d just gotten sick and tired of hearing every detail of Pit’s most wonderful, practically perfect in every way goddess.  Tiny could be shrill in his battle-cries, but for the most part, every Link that ever existed was a quiet being.  Pit was, according to Toki’s brain ever since he got to meet him in these better times “the boy who was incapable of shutting up.”  He reminded Toki of a less-informed, less motherly Navi, actually… with a better sense of humor, but he was still a little wearying to the ex-Hero in large doses.  Tiny got along with him… that’s all that really mattered. 

 

Pit glided down from his tree.  “Where are you going all of a sudden?” he asked.  “I don’t think you’ve even met everyone yet!” 

 

It was true that Toki had only caught a glimpse of Kirby arguing with a strange yellow being that was as round and big-mouthed as he was.  Something about the yellow pie-cut ball seemed very ancient… However, Toki avoided being near Kirby whenever he could make an escape.  The yellow-thing struck him as being just as dangerous.  No one understood this about him.  Why he feared puff-balls with gaping maws was one of those stories that he’d never tell.   

 

“Its okay, Pit,” Toki sighed.  “I just feel like I need to get back home.  The Hylian Knights need their captain, I’m sure you understand.” He held his hand up.  “You’ve already described Lady Palutena to me at least ten times by now, I’m sure I’ll enjoy watching her when the next tournament starts.” 

 

“I didn’t stop you for that,” Pit replied.  “Before you go… I just…really wanted to thank you.”  

 

The angel rubbed the back of his neck and toed his sandal on the cobblestones of the trail by the tree, looking sheepish. 

 

“Thank me? For what?” 

 

Pit held out his hands in an emphatic way and looked very serious for a moment.  “You have to remember!” he yelped.  “You have to be… like… the only guy who remembers besides people like me and Lady Palutena!” 

 

“What do you mean?” Toki asked, feeling a trill of fear rise up in his chest. He’d been free of the beast ever since he’d touched the Triforce, but he was starting to want a “freakin’ drink” again.   

 

“I want to thank you for rewriting this story!” Pit got out.  “I mean, I’m not much for reading, but… I guess that’s the way you’d put it!” 

 

“Let me handle this.” – Another voice, a woman’s, came from nowhere. A thick beam of light shone down before the once-Hero of Time. A delicate foot materialized out of it and alighted upon the cobblestones.  Pit immediately went to one knee in a stately bow.  Link looked up and saw a magnificent lady with long green hair.  Just like Pit had described her.  Toki went to one knee, too, like he did when he was addressed by Zelda in the royal court. 

 

“Get up, you two,” Palutena admonished.  “Greetings, Hero of Time,” she said to Link.

 

“Yeah, um… greetings.” 

 

“My face is up here, Toki.”

 

Was it just him, or did this goddess show a lot of leg?  No wonder poor Pit had trouble keeping “naughty thoughts” out of his head as he’d spoken about in regards to the one he served. 

 

“Yes, glad to meet you, Lady Palutena” Toki responded, “But I am afraid I was just going.” 

 

“What’s the hurry?  If I overheard correctly, Pit here was just thanking you.”

 

“Yeah, I…um…”

 

“I want to thank you, too.” 

 

Link’s face fell.  “So… you know… don’t you?”

 

“About the other timeline?  Yes.  I’m a goddess.  I have an all-seeing eye.”

 

“I thought your sight was botched by bad laser eye-surgery,” Pit spoke up.

 

Palutena laughed.  “My sight might not be perfect, but I know what Toki’s been through – and you, too, my little angel.  And that’s how he knows, Mr. Toki.” 

 

“I’m okay now, really!” Pit assured, twitching his wings.  “I’ve got both my wings and am alive and everything!”   

 

Toki sighed.  “I was really hoping…” he said slowly, “that it was all a dream – just a nightmare I had.  I know I used to have a drinking-problem, in any case… I was hoping it was some kind of alcohol-fueled dream.” 

 

“Nope!” Pit piped up, way too chipper.  “We all died horribly!  Um…oops… I…um…”

 

“Piiiit,” Palutena said slowly, “Maybe you would like to go for a little flight.”

 

Pit squeaked in surprise as his wings were suddenly imbued with the Power of Flight and he was lifted up.  His goddess waved her staff and he took off soaring.  His body evened out on the wind and he clearly started to enjoy it.  Link noticed how Palutena subtly manipulated her staff as she spoke with him.  Pit was able to steer himself as he wished, just not back down to them.  Link liked that – convenient twerp-extraction when needed.

 

“You were right, Toki,” she said, her tone becoming more serious while Pit was shouting something at a passing goose out in the open sky, “I cried.  When he was so badly hurt and there was nothing I could do, I cried.”   

 

“I’m sorry about that, my lady,” Toki said, his shoulders slumping.  “I actually did my best to save them both, him and my Tiny.  It wasn’t possible, really.” 

 

“I know you did what you could.  Pit came back to me, though.  He came back to my temple as a spirit, as he used to do before I perfected immediately reviving him when he falls in battle. He couldn’t affect the physical world at all, so he couldn’t tell any of you not to worry. Only I could interact with him. My poor centurions couldn’t even see him.  The big ones look so goofy when they cry, but very sweet.  It was actually kind of funny. He hates the halo he gets.  He tries to take it off and he can’t.  It kind of clashes with his crown and he really doesn’t like the reminder of being dead. I let him appear as himself when I sent him to your dream.”

 

“That was REAL?” Toki gasped.  “I thought that was just my stress-addled brain playing tricks on me!”

 

“Did the dream help you?”

 

“Yes… yes it did,” Toki said.  His lips betrayed a frown and his eyes became fierce.  “If you were in the business of giving people dreams, you should have given a good one to Tiny – er… Toon Link.  He needed something like that more than I did.”

 

“I don’t have complete control of mortal psyches, Toki,” Palutena said, also frowning.  “Pit! Stop trying to pluck that bird’s tail in mid-flight!” 

 

She slammed her staff on the ground and Link heard a scream behind him, then an “Okay! Okay! I was just having a little fun!” 

 

Toki had to admit it was funny watching the angel tumble head over tail as his goddess asserted her authority.  Oh, how in the world were they going to be able to have a fair fight if they were both in the next tournament? 

 

“I gave you what you needed,” Palutena continued, “and Pit gathered what souls he could.  Your brain filled in the rest.  You were the hero slated to save the worlds.  Skyworld had to put its resources behind you.” 

 

“Hyrule already has goddesses,” Link stated. 

 

“So they needed a little help.  Anyway, again, thank you, Toki.  You more than lived up to that ‘Hero of Time’ title you’ve got.” 

 

“I wasn’t a hero at all for a long time,” Toki said.  “My goddesses will take care of me.  You should concentrate on taking care of Pit.  He’s a remarkable boy.”

 

His gaze turned skyward, to Pit cutting his way through small clouds. 

 

“It’s almost time for him to come down,” Palutena said casually.  “His wings can’t take my power for more than five minutes.  They just don’t work right on their own.  I’ve been taking care of him all his life and as much of a ‘boy’ as he is; I lost count of his age at around the 700-year mark.” 

 

“Really!” Toki exclaimed. “That’s kind of like my best friend, I suppose.  Saria – she’s got green hair like you, but she keeps it short.  She’s my Hyrule’s Sage of Forest and she looks like she’s twelve, but I was kind of raised by her.  In fact, I grew up with a race of immortals.  Only I grew up.” 

 

Palutena smiled.  “The inner strength you mortals are capable of never ceases to amaze me.  I know enough about you to know that you are timeless – maybe in a different way than gods and angels are, but I think we have something rare in common.” 

 

“You just watch out for Tiny in the upcoming tournament,” Toki said with a devious smile.  “I’m going to be betting my rupees on him – not you.” 

 

A shout of “Ooh! Wowww! Ow! Noooo!  Aaaaaaah!” sounded in the garden behind the goddess and the swordsman.  “At least they’re not eggplants! Ooof!” 

 

“D’ Ordon’s pumpkin patch,” Toki said with a frown. 

 

“I warned him about trying to sweep in too low too quickly,” Palutena said, also frowning. 

 

Pit came strolling up, bits of orange rind and stringy pumpkin-guts stuck to his wings, wearing part of a big round pumpkin on his head like a helm.  Palutena flicked her wrist and the bits of gourd lifted off the disheveled angel and scattered to the ground. 

 

“Are you okay?” Link yelped. 

 

“Yeaaaaaah,” Pit answered awkwardly. 

 

“We really ought to go, Pit,” Palutena said.  “Toki wants to get home and rest and we need to meet Toon Link for pie and ice cream, don’t we?”

 

“Thanks again, Toki!” Pit chimed. 

 

Palutena turned around as she was about to leave with her guard captain, “Oh, and Toki? One more thing?”

 

“Yeah?” Link inquired. 

 

“Do you have any idea when a 3D version of ‘Majora’s Mask’ is going to come out?  Both of us have wanted to play it for a very long time.” 

 

Link raised a finger.  He stood shock-still, his face a mask of confusion. 

 

“Lady Palutena?” Pit said, looking up to his goddess, “Not all of the people of other worlds know that their worlds are games.” 

 

“Oh, okay, then,” the light-deity laughed.  “Oh, I’m so sorry if I confused you, Toki! Never mind what I said.” 

 

Link whispered under his breath as they started to walk away.  “I wanted to remember Termina and that Din-damned mask about as much as I wanted to remember Ganondorf’s Brawls…”

 

A sudden thought struck him and he ran after Pit and Palutena. 

 

“Toki?” Palutena asked. 

 

“One more thing,” the swordsman said, breathless, “As long as the three of us know about the alternate timeline… don’t tell anyone. Please.”  He then stood tall and hardened his gaze, leveling it like a laser-beam at them both.  “I don’t want anyone to know, especially the other Hylians.  In fact, if anyone tells Toon Link about the world that only the timeless know…. a certain little angel is going to get his wings plucked bald!”

 

Pit let out a little “Eeep!” 

 

As the goddess and the angel walked one way and he walked the other, Toki smiled with a wicked satisfaction.     

 

   

 

 


	7. Beast's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Link of Ordon, the famed Hero of Twilight, the world of Ganondorf's "Brawls of Honor" was a world turned upside down. When he enters the game, cruelty becomes a form of kindness and people's salvation lies in their deaths. In order to remain a hero, the Hero must become the most ruthless of villains. Enjoy the story set forth in "National Anthem" through a beast's eyes.

**A Gathering of Sacrifices**

**THE SEVENTH TALE:**

**Beast’s Eyes**

Link of Ordon was the Hero of his village, his kingdom and his world.  He was known far and wide in what became known as “Old” Hyrule as the very embodiment of courage. 

 

It was his “cowardice,” however, that kept most of his people safe for many years. 

 

 

 

“Ouch! Hey! What was that for, Link?” 

 

“I don’t want to ever hear you say that again!”

 

It was the first time he’d ever hit his young friend, Colin, at least in a way that was meant to hurt.  Playful jabs at the shoulders as adoptive brothers and careless whaps to the sides and legs with wooden swords in training-sessions were one thing.  A hard smack upside the younger boy’s head was another and Link had been very serious about it. 

 

“Why won’t you go, then?  You can raise your hand and volunteer!” Colin protested - My, had the kid grown some vigor after the incident with King Bulbin and Beth – “You can reach Smash City and get rid of Ganondorf!”

 

“It’s not that easy…”

 

“You fought him before, and you won!  What’s happened to you, Link?”

 

The elder boy glared at him, hard.  “I don’t want to EVER hear you say you’ll volunteer for a Brawl!” he growled.  “I will not have you throw your life away!”

 

“I think I’m strong enough!”

 

“Kid, saving Beth was one thing.  Going into a staged-event with who-knows-what kind of people from all across the worlds…”  Link sighed heavily.  “Ever since our world was forced into this, I’ve been dreading hearing one of you kids called.  If you’re called, I’ll take your place.”

 

“Maybe we’d both be called, and can fight together…”

 

“NO, Colin! The Brawls… they aren’t just about fighting. They’re about fighting and killing innocent people.  Ganondorf’s people never choose just villains.  I don’t want to see you bloody, Colin…with your own blood or that of others.” 

 

“There has to be a way to stop him!”

 

“I know, I know,” Link said, sitting on a log at the edge of Faron Spring, where he had the boy had been practicing mock-fighting.  I just… haven’t figured it out yet.” 

 

“But… you’re the Hero… you’re my-”

 

“Enough. Don’t remind me.  I thought I’d killed him.  He just… pops up, pretty as you please, in that other world.  I failed Lady Zelda and here we are.”  He turned to Colin and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders.  “Look, I’m sorry I hit you.  It’s just… I don’t want anyone from our kingdom to ever volunteer for a Brawl.  Why should we make ourselves look like willing slaves?  As my friend, Shad, tells me, wisdom is needed before courage. We need to know how to fight before we can fight…”

 

“Like finding the weak spot on a monster?”

 

“Exactly.  Once we find a weak spot in the system, we can strike.  Maybe then, I’ll even volunteer.  For now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to look like a coward.” 

 

“I’ll be one right along with you,” Colin said with a smile.  “I’m an expert at being a wimp!” 

 

“Oh, don’t say that. Just, next time you get itchin’ to go off and fight, think of your little sister.  She needs a big brother.”

 

“Right!” 

 

 

As the years progressed, no one in the entire kingdom of Old Hyrule was a volunteer.  From what the people knew of rumor, their land as not seen as a land of cowards, but as a land of defiance.  Every chosen fighter for Ganondorf’s Brawls of Honor went unwillingly, but they also went with their heads held high.  If their Link was unwilling to submit, so were they. 

 

The year Shad was selected, the former liberation Group of which he was a part sent him off with cheers and whistles.  They figured on him being doomed, but that became the tradition.  He held himself with dignity (although Link could see the fear in his eyes), and ultimately was able to perform a little sabotage from within.  He’d found a chink in the armor, a small weak-spot on the Boss, and had paid for it with a cruel death. 

 

Link had caught a few glimpses of the Hero of Time on the televised broadcast that Smash City technology had brought into the kingdom.  He thought it strange, how time-displaced everything was.  In the history of the Hyrule that he knew, the Hero of Time was long-dead.  He’d even met the spirit of said ancestor during his journey.  The Hero of Time, according to the combined Nation of Ninten, was alive and had lost his spark as a Hero.  Link of Ordon had learned of his Brawl, which had occurred some years before his own “Old” Hyrule had been overtaken and grafted into the program.  Link didn’t consider the man swigging a bottle on the screen to be the same person as the venerable ancestral spirit that he’d known.  It was like a man’s soul had been split, becoming separate people. 

 

Time had been fairly screwed-up in his world, too.  He noticed; year-to-year, how the seasons changed and how some of the youngest children aged a little – changing from babies to toddlers, but nobody grew up.  He remained perpetually seventeen.  Colin didn’t seem to physically grow.  Was whatever obscure magic Ganondorf was using to conquer the multiverse keeping them all in stasis so he could pick them all off as he’d known them?  -  It certainly would not be unlike a man possessed of such evil. 

 

The year the long-distant Twilight Realm became involved was the year that broke Link’s spirit.  He screamed aloud at all the public screenings of the Brawl then.  He had to explain to Ordon Village just who this “Midna” person was and why she was so important to him.  His mentor, Rusl, had picked up quickly that she was Link’s beloved, that “person he’d lost on his journey” that everybody thought was a friend that had died that they’d never known. 

 

“Yeah… that’s Midna,” he’d told a shocked Rusl and Uli when they’d seen her perform murder with magic on-screen, with swiftness but without pity.  “She does what she has to in order to survive. I know the method is shocking, but she was attacked first!  She was always instinctual… and brought out the instinct in me.” 

 

Link’s adoptive family, Colin included, looked at each other puzzled.  Rusl gave him a sly “You dog!” look.  He didn’t know how true it was.  Link had never told him about his transformation into the form of a wolf. 

 

Link put up his hands. “We… never got to the point of doin’ stuff that leads to children,” he said, blushing.  “But, yeah.  I know she seems ‘dark,’ but she’s a good person. Trust me.” 

 

 

Another Brawl happened.  Ordon Village lost a pair of people that they didn’t know that even the well-traveled Link had barely gotten to know.  Link preformed a funeral rite for the Zora warrior when he fell – He was not King Ralis, but someone Link knew Ralis would mourn.  Purlo’s tricks had not saved him. Another year around and the selection process rested upon the single person that everyone had both dreaded and secretly hoped would enter the Brawl. 

 

  1.   He gave his surname as ‘d Ordon,” which meant “of Ordon.”   



 

Sheik, a denizen of Castle Town, had also been chosen.  That person was a mysterious being who was known to be Lady Zelda’s personal bodyguard and nothing more.   

 

Before he was to be taken away, Link was allowed to say his goodbyes to his family and friends.  This was more than many fighters got – their treatment being dependent upon their reaction.  Link was calm and gave Ganondorf’s attendant minions a beast-eyed glare.

 

Rusl patted him in the shoulder.  “Whatever you have to do, do it with honor,” he said.  Link just about crushed Uli in a hug of the kind only a son who’d been chosen and grafted into the family could give someone who’d served as a mother. 

 

Ilia gave him the hug of a very best friend.  She knew that she had “lost” at being something other for good when she’d seen, first hand, Link’s reaction to Midna in the Brawl.  He butted his forehead against hers and brushed a tear from her cheek.  “Take care of Epona for me,” he said.  “I expect her to be washed and curried up for me when I come home.” 

 

“Link… you know what coming home means for you, right?” Mayor Bo asked. 

 

Link gave him a nod – a silent communication that hinted that the young man was thinking of doing something stupid, but, perhaps, the kind of stupid the world needed someone to try.  “I’ll stun the worlds,” he said. 

 

He turned to Colin as he was grabbed, stripped of his sword and shield and led to the large boar he was to be carried to “The Station” on.  “Remember what I said,” he told the boy, “Take care of sis.  Mom and Dad, too.” 

 

Colin gave him a Hylian Guard’s salute.  Everyone else in Ordon Village did the same. 

 

 

 

 

 

Some fighters were taken via a direct portal to Smash City in the heart of Ninten.   Far-flung worlds like Old Hyrule used various transport technologies, not that going through portals were not involved with those, as well.  The fact that a transport was used for his people only meant that Link ‘d Ordon was in for a long ride, allowing him a bit of adjustment to what was going on.

 

He’d just never expected a hovering train etched in the symbols of the Twilight Realm. He saw Sheik escorted into the car behind the one he was taken to.  After he was prodded into his car and finally left to his privacy, he discovered another surprise.  A tall person stepped into his car just before it got moving.  Even cloaked in long black robes, Link knew immediately who it was.

 

“Midna?” 

 

In response, Midna parted the veil that was over her face and let her outer cloak slip, revealing herself in her “empress” attire – the same clothes Link had seen her in when she’d gone back to her kingdom.  She strode over to Link, grabbed him by his tunic-collar and fiercely kissed his lips.  He reciprocated, snaking his arms around her waist, overcome with a sense of hunger and need.  When one of his hands started trailing south, toward her hindquarters, she broke off and pushed him back. 

 

“Enough…” she said hesitantly.  “I apologize for that.”

 

“No need for apology!” Link exclaimed.  “I missed you… This is a… very late ‘later.”

 

Midna stroked the tip of one of his ears.  “I missed you more, Fuzzbutt.”

 

“I’m not sure that’s possible…” he said, gripping her hands.  He loved her long, slender fingers.  “I suppose… if there is any good to come from the Brawl of Honor, it’s this…”

 

“Link,” Midna said, pushing his chest. “Sit down.”  He fell heavily onto the couch along one wall of the passenger car.   “We have preparations.  We have a limited time for training. We must use it well.” 

 

“I’m strong enough to affect a win,” Link said.  “You know that.  I’ve kept up my training between our quest and now. I am not sure what to do about Sheik.  I have met her a few times at the castle, but I do not know her fighting technique.” 

 

Midna whipped around and glared at him.  “I do not doubt your strength, I doubt your heart.  I don’t know if you will be willing to do what needs done.” 

 

“All I really want to do is to make it to Smash City,” Link replied.  He looked at his shaking hands. “I don’t know how yet, but…”

 

“Eyes of Ganon are everywhere!” Midna hissed.  “Ears, too!  You’re already in more danger than other fighters because of who you are! I do not know why he’s waited this long for you.”

 

“I thought the selection process was mostly random.”

 

“Mostly.”  She sat down next to him and leaned in, speaking in a low, seductive whisper to his ear.  “My room at the hotel where everyone meets is a little more private. We will have some time to ourselves before all of the other fighters arrive.”

 

 

 

 

Time “to themselves” hadn’t been, entirely, what Link had been hoping for.  Midna insisted on time to herself to speak with some of the other veterans and had insisted that Link stay in their quarters – where a bed had been set up just for him next to another in a room he’d share with Sheik.  He sat in the main room across from the Sheikah, watching video of the other selected fighters for the year’s Brawl. 

 

“The ape should be easy if he fails to bring weapons,” Sheik commented.  “The dragon with the spiked-shell looks powerful, but dumb.  We should be able to outwit him easily.”

 

“What’s with the ‘we?” Link asked.

 

“We are to be allies, are we not?” Sheik replied.  “It is not mandatory for those of the same world to form pacts, but it usually occurs.  Besides, Lady Zelda ordered me to protect you.  This means that if you fail to agree to work with me, I will simply shadow you and you will not know that I am there, I assure you.”

 

“Lady Zelda told you to protect me?”

 

Sheik nodded.  “She believes in you as the Hero.”

 

Link sighed heavily and rolled his eyes.  He didn’t need this.  He was to enter a fight to the death with someone who seemed perfectly capable of doing the job, but who might not put up a fight if it came down to the two of them.  Link couldn’t fight someone who refused to, at least when they were a thinking person and not an invasive monster.  It went against everything a hero was supposed to do.   

 

He stared at the screen.  He felt sorry for the winged boy.  The kid was clearly a knight who was volunteering to protect his lady.  Listening to the commentary, he learned that the chained woman was a goddess and the young man was the chief of her servants.  He was in this on his own, apparently, with no one to protect but her.

 

“An angel,” Sheik commented, “A messenger of gods.  A holy creature.  He looks young, but may be immortal.” 

 

“So don’t feel bad about killing him? Is that what you’re saying, Sheik?”

 

Zelda’s bodyguard nodded.  “I do not look forward to it.  To destroy anything holy, even something not of our own world, surely carries a terrible curse.  Clipping the wings may be in order.”

 

“Ugh,” Link said, shaking his head.  “He’s just a kid.  I don’t want to think about it.  Perhaps an arena-danger will take him.  That poor green-haired woman…”

 

“He’s just a servant,” Sheik said, “like me.”

 

“I am certain that Zelda values you,” Link responded.  “And look how she is calling after him. She looks as distraught as I would be if the Brawl had taken my little brother, Colin.” 

 

By the time the footage finished on the fighter from New Hyrule, Link had gone livid.  He watched as he saw a young boy take the selection in lieu of his younger sister.  He got a good look at the child and saw that he was nothing more and nothing less than his “Legendary Hero” counterpart from that split-off world.  Link Outsetter was nothing more than a boy – a round-faced, small, young Hero who had barely yet begun to live a heroic life.   

 

Sheik said nothing.  She stared at the screen as stunned as Link ‘d Ordon was.  Link, for his part, had risen from his seat and started wrecking havoc on every piece of pottery in their quarters.  He did not have a sword on him, for his weapons were being held by the Brawl-staff.  He picked up pots and vases and threw them against the walls.  Sheik said nothing, letting the sound of breaking ceramic soothe her homeland’s Hero. 

 

Midna entered.  “Now, Link, remember that time in Kakariko Village when you were doing this and you found the full chamber-pot?”

 

Link stared at her and gently dropped the small clay pot that he was carrying by the lip in one of his hands.  It landed on the carpet with a dull thud. 

 

Midna laughed.  “Oh, don’t worry, no one around here has used any of them for that.  Silly wolf.  I had these brought in for you.  I watched the selection earlier on the live-feed and anticipated that you would need something to break when you got to see it.  I’ll have services clean everything up after you’ve gotten it out of your system.” 

 

Link sat down again, but eyed her desperately.  “Kids,” he almost squeaked. 

 

Midna put a hand on his shoulder.  “Yes…” she said.  “If you remember my ordeal, some very young people were there, too.”

 

“The… the other Hero… but he’s a little kid…”

 

“Easy, Link.” 

 

Midna let him hug her.  She wrapped her cloak and her arms around him.  “Plans are being made,” she said, sending up a beam of Twilight magic to target and cloak the small cameras and recording devices that were in the room.  Midna had long found and memorized where they were and none of the staff seemed the wiser.  Her enchantment made it appear as if everything was normal and their voices were quiet background noise, as if from the television.  She’d heard rumors that most of the rooms weren’t even being watched anymore due to certain “private activities” that some of the veterans were wont to do even in the sitting areas of their own quarters.  “Toki,” according to the legends, proudly walked around starkers in his sometimes and, as nice a body as he’d once had, apparently did not go out of his way to make himself attractive. 

 

Link picked up on what was happening.  “I’m going to ram my sword through Ganondorf’s gut – again!” he growled. 

 

“Well, if all goes right in the world,” Midna said.  “But there is a time for everything and a way to go about it.  Sheik, if you can hold down the quarters tonight… later tonight, Link and I are going to be going out to dinner.”

 

“What?” Link asked. 

 

“Think of it as a last romantic date to celebrate those who are about to die.”

 

 

 

 

 

The midnight meeting at Geno’s gave Link a clear mission.  He met with old legends and Sheik even managed to sneak her way in.  Link learned that Midna had only told her to “hold down the fort” as a formality and knew that she would be there.  On one hand, the plan was very good.  Play lovey-dovey with Midna – as if that were hard – get an in to Ganondorf’s presidential palace, sneak off within its halls, find the Triforce and then wish Ganondorf’s system away.  Support was to be expected from a team that was being assembled from the outer worlds should the shadow-mission turn into a full-scale military-style assault. 

 

While the leadership of Mario was welcomed, Link wished that the brains of the operation wasn’t a fat yellow rodent.  His time spent as a wolf allowed Link an inherent understanding of many animals – and pokemon, as it would seem – so Pikachu’s language had been easy for him to pick up on.  It still seemed incongruous that “the smart guy” looked like something that should have been spending most of its time licking peanut-butter off its whiskers and running on a metal wheel.

 

Of course, the part Link liked least of the plan was the fact that he was to go through with the Brawl of Honor and was to win by any means necessary.  Any fighters that were not killed by arena-dangers or slain by other fighters would have to fall by his hands or Sheik’s.  Sheik had resigned herself to being taken by his hand.  Samus Aran, of course, was in on the plan and she would, in the best-case scenario, be spared though an event that they were going to stage. 

 

He played it out in his mind how he was going to do it all.  If he was going to be left with the memories of this world, it was better for him to have a bloodstained soul than that little version of him from New Hyrule.  It would be better for him to bear the sin than a holy angel.  He knew what was going on with the ways of the Triforce, unlike the other swordsmen. Beasts and half-beasts were incapable of knowing.  He would be quick and merciful, though, perhaps, he would make it look brutal for the Smash City audience.  Of course, even before he entered the grand game, he had to make the world believe that he had fallen as a Hero. 

 

The young man wondered what his village would think of him and worried over it.  Then, again, he had confided in Rusl the feeling of putting his sword to Shadow Beasts whom he knew had once been innocent people whose bodies had been warped into those terrible, destructive shapes.  Link ‘d Ordon was already a Hero with a taint of gray in a world that expected him to be a white knight in a world of black and white.  

 

His animal alter-ego was not a gentle, timid rabbit, after all.  His form was one with sharp fangs and a taste for meat - a huge, strong wolf. 

 

In training, he was given his Master Sword – though something about it had been hobbled.  It retained most of its light, but safeguards were in place to keep anything that could harm Smash City’s “loveable” dictator in check.  It was strong enough to divide light from darkness, however, in that he could use it to shift back into human form after Midna had presented him his “stage token.”  Said token was the shadow-magic stone that enabled his “werewolf” ability.  This was an ability he used to full-effect to show off for his keepers – mostly by intimidating the doomed. 

 

Link did not feel proud of this.  It needed to be done… he needed to make them afraid in order to convince everyone that he had fallen. Most of all, he needed to convince Ganondorf. He and Midna had met with him briefly. It had to appear as though he did not care about being a Hero anymore.  It had to appear as though his love for Midna had driven him mad.  The truth was… it had a little.    

 

In the hall, he caught a glimpse of people’s eyes as he passed them. 

 

“The angel has eyes like mine,” he confided to Midna back in their quarters.  They rested against each other in Midna’s bed as Sheik slept in the other room.  Midna idly stroked Link’s bare back, feeling some of his raised scars.  They both remembered how he’d earned them.    

 

“Do you think so?  The flash from his arrows hurts me. He’s also overconfident and obnoxious.”

 

“Light-magic.  They would be painful for you.  Don’t worry. You know the rules.  If he shoots you in the training hall, he’ll be executed.”

 

“About his eyes?”

 

“I don’t think he’s as innocent as everyone thinks,” Link began.  “They’re big and pretty, but there’s an edge to them.  He’s seen combat before.  There’s something in his eyes that tells me he’s fought his way through Hell. I can’t explain it.  Call it my animal-senses.  I think I should not underestimate him.”

 

“That is wise,” Midna said, stroking his hair.  “If he gives you that kind an impression, you may wish to kill him first.” 

 

Link whimpered slightly, like a wolf, although he was a Hylian at the moment.  “I want to get to dispatching the other Link as quickly as possible.”  He winced.  “His eyes actually are innocent. Tough, though.  He’s as brave as our kind are meant to be.  I think that it’s for the best if he goes quickly before witnessing anything terrible or being driven by the survival-urge to do anything terrible.  One of us, at least, should remain a hero.”

 

“Silly beast.  You think you can preserve his honor by killing him?”

 

Link sat up.  “Have you got a better plan?”

 

“No.  It’s just that I haven’t seen Toki this lively.  He knows what’s likely to happen, but he has… hope. The little one has given him a touch of his honor back.”

 

“Toki…” Link trailed off. “He’s…” he shook his head. “The Hero of Time.”

 

“Ex-Hero of Time,” Midna said with an emphasis on the “ex” part.  “He’s not the same as the Shade.  The ghost you met was what he once was and could have been.  In this world, he’s a wreck. Pay him no mind.”

 

“His eyes were the most desperate set of eyes I’ve ever seen.” 

 

“He has chosen his gin-soaked path,” Midna explained.  “Only he can save himself.” 

 

“Could I become like him?” 

 

“It is possible,” Midna said matter-of-factly. “Upon the completion of our mission, you will be left with the memories of this plane.  Surely, you will have regrets.  It will be up to you how deep those regrets will go and what you will do with them.  See Toki as a cautionary tale.”

 

“If we succeed… and I see a better world, I’ll know that it wasn’t for nothing.”  He turned and looked at Midna. “And I will find you again. I don’t care how long it takes.”

 

“First obtain the victory,” Midna said. 

 

 

 

 

Link and Sheik were let off in the arena randomly and had to find each other.  Between their mutual tracking abilities, they did so quickly.   They found fresh water and spoke of good places to camp when they needed to rest.  Link knew these woods.  They were deep in Faron – the area obviously having been cordoned off for the Brawl event or at least a place that mimicked the area enough to fool Link into thinking he recognized landmarks.  Food would be fairly simple to find, as both Link and Sheik were familiar with foraging and Link could hunt… especially when he used his “token” and transformed. 

 

“I think I should get to know you, Sheik,” Link said as they sat around what looked like the remains of  ruins.    “You work for Zelda, but … for how long?  She could have used a bodyguard during the Twilight Invasion.”

 

“I was with her then,” Sheik said in a hoarse whisper. 

 

“How come I did not see you? Midna did not see you, either.”

 

“I was… inside her mind,” Sheik tried to explain.  “I am…essentially, an alter-ego of Lady Zelda.”

 

Link nearly panicked. “Zelda? No, you cannot be here! Hyrule needs you!”

 

“Lady Zelda is safe,” Sheik assured.  “I was once a part of her, body and soul, but she used her skills in magic to give me a separate existence.  It happened not long ago. I am grateful.  It is that gratitude toward her that drives me to take care of you, Hero. We both have the utmost respect for you.  The success of your mission will assure the safety, peace and happiness of Hyrule.”

 

“So you are quite the dedicated soldier.”

 

Sheik nodded. “I will do what needs to be done to see you through.”

 

“I’d say, right now, we should look to the basics,” Link said.  “Exposure, thirst, starvation and poisoning by elements in the environment are things more likely to kill us than any of the other fighters.  In fact, I don’t think most of them wanted to be here.”

 

“Do we?” Sheik asked coyly. 

 

“There is no honor in this kind of a brawl,” Link agreed. “I just don’t want our Hyrule to be sent into oblivion.”

 

 

 

 

 

The first battle for the Hero and his shadow was the kind of fight he wasn’t un-accustomed to.  Link had fought dragons before, though in different contexts.  Charizard came lumbering out of the woods.  Immediately, Sheik threw a handful of steel needles into its neck.  It roared and lumbered after her.  Technically, fighters were to enter the Brawl-arena with one weapon and she was not supposed to have those needles in addition to her short-sword.  Sheik had smuggled them in, anyway.

 

Charizard caught Link as he tried to sneak up on it. Immediately, Link’s Hylian Shield was on his arm, repelling the flames.   Link could pick up on some of its roaring, though its poke-speak was not as articulate as Pikachu’s.  “Keep him distracted!” Link ordered Sheik, who had skittered up upon a shelf of rock.  “Get his attention off of me!  He’s acting on instinct. He’s a trained-pokemon and doesn’t know what to do without a trainer!” 

 

The creature grew tired of using its Flamethrower breath on Link, immediately trying to unseat Sheik from her rocky refuge with a Rock Smash, slamming its head into the shelf. She whipped a chain she carried around the dragon’s tail.  Link leveled his sword and rushed in, leaping for the center of Charizard’s chest.  The tip of the blade split bone like butter.  With a howling roar, the fire-pokemon went down.  Link made haste to get out of the way. 

 

The dragon-slayer caught his breath as he cleaned his sword on a patch of grass.  The blood came from Charizard in a spreading grim pool that formed little streamlets in the dirt.  Sheik patted the pokemon under the horn and around the neck.  “A clean kill,” she said.  “You show your experience.” 

 

“Yeah,” Link said, putting his sword back in its scabbard.  He wondered how the Master Sword, itself, felt about being tainted.  It wasn’t a true taint as his act wasn’t one of pure corruption.  Charizard had come after them, first, so what he’d done had been self-defense against an unreasoning and destructive animal.  He still felt his heart sink, just a bit.  He hoped that Pikachu had seen how clean he had done the job. He knew that the rodent couldn’t be happy, but this had been planned from the start and he wanted the rat to know that his friend had experienced a minimum of suffering.  Sheik pointed to a camera she spied high in a tree.  Link climbed up over Charizard’s head and struck a “manly” pose – something of a combination of a hunter showing off his trophy and the most psychotic smile he could muster.  Sheik took Charizard’s shoulder and planted a foot triumphantly upon his neck. 

 

After flexing for the city full of viewers, the two Old Hyruleans made haste to get away from the pokemon’s carcass so that they did not become victims of the cleanup detail. 

 

 

 

The days of the Brawl of Honor wore on.  Sheik fell into a little “garden” of Deku Babas and Link cut them to pieces to save her from being eaten alive.  She was not hurt badly and was able to shake what little venom had gotten into her system out of it with a good sweat. 

 

The two separated for an evening – Link kept a camp while Sheik wandered off, moving with the night-shadows.  When she returns, she brings news that the plan for Samus’ liberation must go down that night.  He gets up and follows Sheik to Samus’ camp, where she is pretending to be asleep. 

 

“We are being watched,” Sheik informs. “We must put on a good show.  I will do what I can to obscure what we need kept in the dark.”

 

Having agreed upon it ahead of time, they stage a battle.  Link could smell the heat from Samus’ weaponry as she cut a little too close to him.  He dodged and danced while Sheik took to the trees.  Soon, he is upon the intergalactic bounty hunter and has his sword to her neck as they exchange insults. 

 

“There are no heroes here!” 

 

Link tries not to let that comment sting.  It is the perfect comment. 

 

Samus couldn’t have picked a more perfect spot for their “struggle.”  He and she both are sinking in mud.  Link hears a shattering sound and a whistle from Sheik.  Hastily, he jumps off of Samus and helps her out of her “armor.”  Link holds her helmet in his hands as she shimmies out of the body-armor like a cicada shedding its outer skin.  Samus gets herself out of the mud and stands upon the firm ground beside it, rubbing out her shoulders.  She is clad skin-tight. 

 

“Don’t stare too long at my technology,” she scolds Link.  Everyone speaks in low whispers so as not to be picked up on audio.

 

“Pikachu really worked up a good dummy for you,” Link commented, watching the shed armor disappear into the mud. “It’s almost a shame to watch it go.” 

 

“As long as it fools the old king,” Samus replied. “Good luck, Hero of Hyrule.”

 

“Time is running thin,” Sheik reminded them both. “Good luck to you, Aran.” 

 

With that, Samus sprints through the forest, using the shadows for cover.

 

 “There’s another camera over this way,” Sheik said, pointing and walking the other way.  “Be sure to show off the helmet.  Let us brag about our ‘kill.”

 

“I think we both almost got killed.” 

 

“Trust me, Link, if she had wanted to go through with it and become a winner herself, we would both be dead right now.” 

 

 

 

 

A wolf’s life in the Arena Faron was a strange life.  Link used the shadow-magic stone to wander the fields and bring back fat rabbits and native Hylian chipmunk-squirrels.  Sheik had to risk building small fires for his catches while Link, in wolf-form, could consume them raw.  He could gulp down much more meat at a time as a wolf, which kept his energy up. 

 

The day after they’d “killed” Samus Aran, the two split up.  Link decided to hunt in animal-form.  They are both actively pursing other fighters now that the plan to evacuate the other who was in on their plans had proven successful.  Link ‘d Ordon did not know that the scent of feathers his sensitive canine nose had caught on the wind would lead him to his biggest regrets in this ordeal – as well as to a significant injury. 

 

He hung low in the bushes upon catching the distinctive sea-salt scent of the younger Hylian.  Even far from his home, the smell of the ocean was on him, at least, according to Wolf Link’s quasi-spiritual animal senses.  Link Outsetter’s partner, on the other hand, had the distinct scent of feathers.  Link ‘d Ordon knew that smell from raising cuccoos and training hawks.  It was a subtle scent – the oil in a bird’s feathers that kept them from getting disheveled by the elements.  The angel smelled slightly of incense, too… the kind familiar to ‘d Ordon from his time spent fighting through corrupted temples.  

 

When the wolf sighted Pit standing atop the rock formation, keeping watch, he knew that he had to be taken out first.  Link had much experience dealing with sentries.  If the most watchful member of a troupe of bulbins wasn’t dealt with first, it would sound the alarm for the rest.  In this case, the “rest” was just little Link Outsetter, who would be likely be alerted by a scuffle, anyway – but with the sentry gone and unable to warn the kid to his location, ‘d Ordon knew that he could slip around and take him from the back end. 

 

Link ‘d Ordon coiled up his shoulders and readied his hindquarters.  If he did this right, Pit wouldn’t even get out a squeak before he was able to move in like a lighting flash.  Two young throats, two clipped veins and it would all be over.  He shuddered.  The beast did not like this at all, even as he was in beast-form.  He was about to take innocent lives – young lives.  Link Outsetter reminded him of Colin.  He kept focusing on the idea of his victims as young rabbits, or perhaps, in Pit’s case, a young bird - to rush in and deal with them humanely.  He kept tense and remembered that it was better for them not to carry the guilt.  He did not think either of the kids had made a kill so far. 

 

He watched the angel tense.  He twitched his wings and looked directly toward the bushes Link ‘d Ordon was hiding behind. An arrow of light formed on his bow.  Pit had sighted him, or had heard his movements.  Dindammit!  He had no moment to spare.  In an instant, he sprang, focusing on his victim’s neck. 

 

Pit twitched, moved and apparently tried to use his weapon.  The wolf tasted a mouth full of fluff as his jaws clenched onto feathers and his teeth sank down into flesh, hitting bone. Link tasted the iron-flavor of blood and felt bones beneath flesh shift in his maw.  The momentum of his body went one way and Pit’s went another.  Link’s wolf-ears caught a wet-sounding pop and a crunch.  The beast had only a moment to witness a bewildered and bloodied Pit on the ground before he felt a sharp impact on the top of his head. 

 

Outsetter is yelling at him and throwing rocks.  His rage a-bristle, he turns to the fight, forgetting his former victim.  Link lunges for little Link, only to be countered by a small shield.  Electric pain shoots through his skull as his teeth make contact with the metal.  ‘D Ordon shifts, avoiding sword-blows and catching a few with his mouth.  The shooting agony of fang on metal does not deter him, nor do the cuts to his lip and muzzle.  

 

 _If only you knew,_ kid, the wolf thought, _Maybe you’d let me take you._

 

He decided he probably wouldn’t.  Being a “Link,” he’d want to take over his mission if he could. He couldn’t so he had to go down.  Save for the wind in the trees, the background was silent.  Had he killed the angel, at least? 

 

A scream destroyed that theory.

 

‘D Ordon finds an opening and leaps up, pinning the younger Link.  Said younger Link, already having proved himself to be no slouch in battle, gave him a sharp kick in the gut.  The sword flashes in the wolf’ periphery and a ramrod of pain slams up its spine.  The wolf would become ashamed of this later, once he’d become a man again, but his instincts took over, screaming at him to run and lick his wounds.  This, he did. 

 

Link found his running wobbly.  His paws slip on wet leaves, sending him crashing to his side into the ground.  He pulls himself up and takes to a walk.  He thinks he hears the kids yelling in the background – not at him, just lost in their own pain and confusion. 

 

He’d failed.  The pulsing pain in his rear – a sharp feeling that went all the way up his spine as he moved – told him that he could not go back and finish things at the moment. His animal senses urged him to find someplace to hide and to heal. 

 

He found Sheik crouched up in a tree.  She descended before him and he whimpered at her.

 

“By Nayru’s knickers, what happened to you?” she asked dryly.  “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and patched.  You can tell me all about it when you’re ready to be yourself again.” 

 

The wolf followed her. 

 

 

 

 

Later that evening, the pair risked a campfire.  Link became a man again and reluctantly pulled down his pants for Sheik to examine his wound. 

 

Sheik sighed.  “Clipped your tailbone.  It’s not as bad an injury for you in human form as it is in animal form.”

 

“It still hurts like fire!” Link complained.  “And this is degrading. I’m glad Midna isn’t here.”

 

“She’s probably watching,” Sheik said with a wry smile.  “Yeah, you’re still oozing blood.  I’m going to have to pitch-seal this.” 

 

She turned to a pot she had on the fire.  She’d been lucky enough to find a simple iron pot, not knowing if it was a gift from the Smash City sponsors or if it was something someone discarded in the forest long ago.  The Sheikah had gathered some pine sap and had been boiling it into something she thought could salve Link’s injuries. 

 

“Have there been any death-announcements?” Link asked, wincing in preparation of medical attention.  “I lost my attention with the… you know… blinding pain.” 

 

“Not since this morning,” Sheik answered. 

 

“I know I didn’t get little Link.  He fought…very well! I mean, I’m actually proud of him! But….”

 

“No, from what I caught a glimpse of, he’s still healthy.”

 

“I know I injured Pit.  There was a lot of blood.  I was off my aim, though.  I was kind of hoping he bled out quick regardless.”

 

“No such luck,” Sheik answered.

 

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” 

 

“Sorry. It’s pretty hot.  You’re going to want to rest on your belly tonight.  No sitting.  It’s going to be hard for you for a while.  In fact, you’re going to want the doctors take care of you after this is all over.” 

 

“I’m gonna be walking funny for the rest of my life!” 

 

“Relax, Hero. I didn’t get your danglies.”

 

“Close enough!” 

 

“I have to be able to get back in there,” Link sighed. 

 

“They’re both on alert,” Sheik cautioned. “They’ll put up too much of a fight. You’ll probably hurt them worse.  I don’t even think I can get in there…”

 

“Don’t,” Link said, gingerly pulling his trousers up and carefully settling himself down on one side.  “Outsetter, at least, should be my kill.  We are two sides of the spirit of the Legendary Hero.”

 

“As you wish.” 

 

“It should be mine to finish the job on his ally, too.  I should finish what I started – unless you can sneak in.  I wonder how bad I got him.  I know the angel looked bad, but all I saw as red and feathers before Outsetter attacked me.”

 

“From what I could see, you tore one of his wings off.” 

 

“Oh, no…” Link groaned.  “That poor kid!  If there was no announcement about him…”

 

“There was none. I am sorry.  However, he probably will not last long.  He’s suffered blood loss and a lot of general trauma.  That’ s a limb-loss.  The kid will probably die in the night.” 

 

Link shivered.  “I didn’t want to sow that kind of suffering.  Everything was supposed to be quick!” 

 

“Rest. Recover.  Use your stone as needed.  I’m going on a Fox-hunt tomorrow.  I’ll meet back with you as soon as I can.

 

 

 

 

Days pass and Link ‘d Ordon spends most of his time nursing his wound and just surviving.  He forages and not only subsists, but feasts – since he’d grown up in these woods – as altered as they’d become for Ganondorf’s games – and knew exactly what berries, leaves and roots were good to eat.  He roasted fish on sticks – catching Ordon catfish and greengill with his hands in the absence of a proper rod.  He even found a few wild pumpkins, growing from seeds that must have blown in from one of the more farmed areas that the area was currently separated from. 

 

When his trail found Sheik’s, he was unprepared for what he saw.  In a little woodland grotto she lay, bloody and covered in white feathers.  Link – as a man – crept around the trees cautiously, wondering if Pit had caught up to her.  A low, slow clucking sound in the shadows told him differently.  He tensed and brought out his sword.  Red eyes glared at him from under bushes and rocks. 

 

He thought that his era had bred out all of their vicious tendencies…  Then again, this was Ganondorf’s Brawl – the cuccoos here had probably been “enhanced” in some way. From the tracks and the blood trails that he saw, Link guessed that the main flock had moved off.  He remained wary of the feathery lumps in the shade.  The Hero knelt down by the Sheikah.  Her chest and neck were torn.  The bandaging on her arms was in tatters, evidence that she’d tried to shield herself. 

 

Link picked her head up gently.  “Sheik,” he whispered. 

 

She was unresponsive.  He found no pulse.  “Sheik?” he asked forlornly.  He shook his head before setting her down.  He took one of her hands in his own and kissed it.  He scrambled up and left the area upon hearing the distinctive robotic sounds of the approaching cleanup-crew.

 

 

 

 

Link ‘d Ordon is more alone than he has ever been.  The game is winding down.  He wanders back toward the camp he knew that Link Outsetter and Pit Icarus were keeping. He slipped into his wolf’s skin.  As night gave way to dawn, he heard howling in the hills.  That is when they came for him. 

 

Wolfos – the most enormous pack he had ever seen.  He tries to fight them off, fang against fang, knowing that there is no space for him to transform and take out his sword.  Link likes the battle this way.  It is primal.  However, they just keep coming.  As his jaws drip and his back bristles, he sees a golden creature emerge from the center of the pack.

 

No…. No! 

 

Link breathes heavily.  It cannot be! That’s not HIM…is it? 

 

The golden-furred wolf, more than the wolfos surrounding him, fills Link with an utter terror.  The image of his mentor reminds him of his loss of honor and of his failures.  He runs, wobbly on his ungainly legs after the loss of his tail.  Wolf Link bursts upon the camp of his would-be victims.  He is cornered against the rocks they stand upon.  Bowser lies dead nearby.   The golden wolf approaches him again.  It does not speak with the ancient voice of the Hero of Time.  It, in fact, is silent and simply glares at him.

 

“I’m sorry, Old Man!” Link barked.  “You don’t understand!  They made me do it!”  Images of Midna ran through his mind, of Sheik, of Mario, Pikachu, Samus, and, of course, President Ganondorf.  He caught a glimpse of the pair on the rock above him.  Pit had one wing unfurled and looked chalk-pale and terribly sick.  Link Outsetter looked afraid.  He had blood-spatter on his front and his leg was bleeding.     

 

Link knows that he has to survive.  He has to finish the job.  He has to reach the Triforce.  He has to save everyone. 

 

The golden wolf’s red eye burns into his spirit.  He’d killed the innocent and had let good people die.  He’d made people suffer.  Pit was dying.  He could smell it on the boy – a deep infection and the internal rot of impending death wafted in the air.  With his wolf-senses, ‘d Ordon could even see it on him.  The angel’s soul had a touch of blue on it, which was how he saw the dying.  Outsetter had lost his innocence.  None of the plan had gone well… failure… everything was a failure…

 

He wanted to fight, but could not bring himself to attack the golden wolf…how could he stand up against Truth?  That is when the golden wolf dove in, seizing him by the shoulder.  The rest of the wolfos follow suit.  Link yelps and paws the air helplessly, feeling his fur torn from his body along with strips of skin.  Fangs scrape bone. 

 

He looks up for a moment to see the fading angel aim an arrow of light upon him.  He wants to whisper his thanks, but feels blood burbling up in his throat.  He feels the arrow’s burning impact in his chest as he looks skyward.  

 

He makes a final plea to the heavens, and to everyone. _“I’m sorry.”_


End file.
